Meanwhile, the girl crouched beside me, deciding it was time for some explanations.
"These lands are called the Interworld, the heart of Elden, blessed by the Great Will. It was the Great Will that gave us the Elden Ring—a weave of both great and lesser runes that govern the order of the world. But the Age of the Golden Order has passed. The Ring was shattered, the great runes fell into the hands of demigods, and countless shards of the Ring, in the form of minor runes, were scattered across the world."
"Hmm…"
Great runes, demigods… after that spider, and the golden oak I'd just seen, I had little doubt now—I wasn't in the ordinary world anymore. This was a magical world. Or, more accurately, dark fantasy.
"The world order has collapsed," she continued. "Chaos, disease, war, madness—they have come to these lands. The world is fading. Even those blessed by the light of the Erd Tree are losing their minds, still bound to the fragments of disrupted order. That is why the Great Will has summoned the Ashen ones to the Interworld. Stripped of blessings, you are now Elden's last hope. And the Ashen who gathers the great runes and restores the Order will become the true Lord of Elden."
"Whoa…" I was impressed. "Just like that, Lord of Elden?"
"Yes." She nodded.
"So, let me get this straight. I'm a beggar in a flag for clothing, destined to gather these runes and become the ruler of the world? Sounds about right?"
"Well…" She smiled awkwardly.
Apparently, I wasn't alone in this. A whole bunch of beggars were now the world's last hope. Sounds like the plot of a new Dark Souls installment.
"By the way, how did you know I was one of the Ashen?"
"Your eyes show no corruption," she explained. "And haven't you heard the call of Grace? Its visions guide the Ashen."
I shook my head. Her expression fell instantly, tinged with disappointment.
"That's… unfortunate," she sighed.
At that moment, her horse nudged me with its muzzle again.
"Maybe you just… didn't recognize the visions?" she brightened. "The flow didn't bring me here by accident. If you let me, I could guide you to a place of Grace. Being near one of these places might make everything clear."
"Places of Grace?" I asked.
"They're… difficult to explain… special spots where the visions of the Erd Tree's Grace remain strong."
"But isn't that Grace tainted by the Ring's destruction?"
"No, that's different."
Of course.
"Grace comes from the Great Will," she explained. "It guides the Ashen to the shards of the great runes. The Ring wants to be restored."
"Alright. If it means getting me off these cliffs and onto solid ground, I'm in."
"Good." She smiled. "Take my hand."
I had no choice but to grasp the gloved hand she extended.
It felt awkward. I hadn't expected that from myself. Yet, after all that endless time wandering the golden desert, it was as if every moment without a girl counted. And now, just from speaking to a beautiful girl, a strange, serious question had arisen under my banner. I had to make some effort to appear calm.
Part of me wanted to stop time and do… something with her.
But she was strange, and there was the magical horse. What if something went wrong? She was my only chance to get out of here.
So… I took her hand.
The next moment, everything vanished in a silver radiance.
Another instant, and we were standing inside what looked like a crypt. What immediately caught my eye was a golden light at the center of the hall. Streams of golden luminescence swirled toward it, reminiscent of a vortex of temporal sand—but no, it wasn't sand, it was light. And it felt… different, somehow. Closer, perhaps, to those spheres that had fallen from the shattered spider.
"Do you see it?" the girl asked.
"You mean that glowing cluster…" I guessed.
"Yes!" she brightened. "Then I wasn't wrong. You truly are an Ashen soul."
I followed the stream of light as it drifted toward a staircase, fading into the distance.
"And you see the visions of Grace—it points the way for you."
"So that's what it is. Got it."
"What will you do now?" she asked, curiosity in her voice.
"Well… honestly, I'm not sure. There are other Ashen, surely, some more deserving of the title of Lord. I have nothing, and… why even bother?"
"You defeated the Spawn," she noted. "If that's true, you have a chance. You could save this world. And it doesn't mean you'll be alone."
"But there's only one title, and many Ashen. Doesn't that create competition?"
"Perhaps… but there's a circle. The most worthy Ashen gather there. Whoever becomes the Lord of Elden, their main goal is to restore the Golden Order. To save this world from fading."
She grew insistent. I felt her impatience—it was clear she wanted me to start searching for the runes and so on. But that could work to my advantage, to coax more information out of her.
"Ashen are guided by their Finger Maids…" she added suddenly. "I'm not one of them, but I could act as yours. I can help you use the runes' power. After defeating the Spawn, you gained its runes. With them, I can make you stronger."
"Oh… and how does that work?" I asked, intrigued.
"I'll show you." She extended her hand again, inviting me to sit beside the place of Grace.
I obliged silently, curiosity getting the better of me.
"Just a little…" she said, a hint of frustration in her voice. "But it will be enough… I can make you a bit stronger, faster, more resilient, or increase your magical power…"
"Hoo…"
This was turning into a proper role-playing game.
"Alright, then… if we increase magical power, I'll be able to use magic?"
"If you know spells and have the proper instrument…"
"Oh… then let's just boost my strength."
"As you wish." She nodded.
A surge of energy flowed through my body—the same freshness I'd felt when breaking the sphere, but now it coursed through my muscles. The sensation engulfed me, growing in physical power. My muscles swelled with strength.
"Do you feel it, Ashen?"
"Yes…"
She wasn't lying.
"If you wish, I could guide you on this path," she continued. "Even if you think you're not ready yet, you can gather enough runes to grow much stronger. And whatever you desire, as Lord of Elden, you can have."
Her words were clearly tempting me with power and desire. The teenager in my soul whispered to ask if I could have her too.
"Why help me?" I asked.
"I… don't remember my purpose," she sighed. "All I want is for you to take me to the Erd Tree. Perhaps it will show me my path too."
"Hmm…"
Her words seemed sincere enough. Magic, destiny, purpose… for me, these were empty concepts. But for the locals, for whom magic and destiny had always mattered, these things were crucial.
"And how long does this world have left?" I pressed.
"Long enough, no need to rush," she said. "The Rune of True Death was taken from the Elden Ring, and the Ring itself is broken. This world will die forever, sinking into madness, but it will never vanish completely. And as long as the great runes exist, there's a chance to restore everything."
"True death… wait, so people don't actually die here?"
"Depends on how you define death. People lack true death, but the Erd Tree can claim their souls, granting rest or rebirth. Or it can reject them, dooming them to eternal torment. Without the Death Rune, no one can be killed permanently."
"I see…"
"Here, Ashen, take this."
She removed a ring from her finger and handed it to me.
"Um?"
"A bone ring. The flow chose you, and it will ease your path. If you need it, just whistle."
It was indeed a clever whistle disguised as a ring. When I looked again for the girl—whose name I had yet to learn—she had vanished, dissolved into silver mist.
"Right… spouted some mysterious nonsense and ran off." I muttered skeptically.
"I'm right here." Her voice rang, tinged with amusement.
"Oi…" I flinched.
Her ghostly silhouette flickered near the glowing cluster, the very Grace itself.
"Are you some kind of spirit?"
"My body was burned…" she retorted. "But the Great Will wouldn't let me die. My purpose is not yet fulfilled."
I stepped closer and tried to touch her shoulder, but my hand passed through, and she dissipated again. Yet, I had held her hand just moments ago.
"How does this work?"
"Let Grace guide you," she whispered.
Stranger and stranger.
The Grace clearly indicated I should go up the stairs. On the right, I also noticed a fogged passage—suspicious, and apparently unnecessary. I went up.
I reached a dead end.
"Shine."
No… it was a circular chamber with a protruding plate in the center. Like traps in games—or perhaps a lift. Even if it were a trap, I could always retry, so I stepped onto it.
The floor shuddered, lifting slowly.
It was indeed a lift.
I reached the exit. There was a heavy door to raise, but it moved easily, and an internal mechanism carried it fully upward. Beyond lay expansive lands, alive with nature: birdsong, rustling grass and leaves. I climbed a small hill, taking in the plains strewn with ruins.
"Oh…"
I glanced sideways and saw a strange man wearing a white mask.
Startled, I froze. Though mysterious, he showed no hostility.
"Interesting. An Ashen soul… unarmed, unclothed, and that's Godrick's banner? Ha-ha! If the Lord of Stormveil saw you like this, your head would roll."
I awkwardly muttered, "Shocking Godrick wasn't part of my plan… I found nothing else…"
"Ha-ha-ha…" His laughter grew louder. "You lift my spirits, Ashen. Just as amusing as your quest for the Elden Ring without power or a servant. What hope does a pauper soul have? Perhaps you seek Godrick's mercy, to partake in his ritual?"
"Not happening, thanks."
He bent, shaking silently with laughter.
"Many more prepared Ashen have perished unnoticed. But who knows? You might succeed. You see the path Grace shows you?"
"Yes…"
Ahead, on the hill to which the door had led, another cluster of light glimmered—another place of Grace like the one below.
"Excuse me, could you tell me where to find people? Some clothes?"
"Oh… the return to the Interworld will hold more surprises, Ashen," he said, amused. "You can go straight; a nomadic trader stopped over there. Though, without a rune, you won't buy anything."
So the runes were also currency. Lucky I had some.
"And if you survive…" he mused, "call me the White-Faced Varre."
I nodded, suddenly frozen.
My ordinary name felt bland here. This was a magical world, full of mysticism, time-sand, monsters, and magical horned horses. Even his name had grandeur. In a world like this, you wanted to be a heroic figure, not a mundane bystander. My own name didn't fit—though I didn't yet know the local naming customs beyond Godrick, Varre, and a goddess named Marika.
"My name is… Kron," I said finally.
From Cronos, the god of time.
"I'll remember," Varre nodded. His eyes suggested a polite smile beneath the mask—or mockery.
I pressed forward to the place of Grace. Streams of golden light reacted instantly, caressing me and pointing the way Varre had mentioned toward the trader.
Touching the golden light, I felt something strange. Several sensations, in fact. I could sense the girl's presence. Previously unnoticed, here she felt more real. Her essence was stronger, yet invisible. At the same time, I felt the Grace flowing from here to the underground crypt.
And…
I simply followed. It was as if she transported me, moving me magically from one place of Grace to another.
"Convenient…" I muttered, looking around.
There she appeared again.
"The roots of the Erd Tree pierce the Interworld," her voice chimed. "That is why Grace can reach even the remotest corners."
"So this transfer goes through the Tree… and you moved me too?"
"Not exactly," she shook her head.
"Can you teach me?"
"Sorry…"
"Right. By the way, we never introduced ourselves."
She smiled kindly.
"My name is Melina."
"Nice to meet you. Call me Kron, or Chrono."
"That's not your real name, is it?" she asked, tilting her head.
I shrugged, hiding any embarrassment.
"Good. Nice to meet you, Chrono," she smiled.
"Did that guy mean anything by 'surprises'?" I asked.
"Hard to explain…" Melina frowned. "You'll see soon enough."
"Alright… but I don't like it."
I frowned and touched the Grace, heading up to the hilltop spot. Varre was gone. Ahead, ruins of a chapel-like temple appeared. Between the crypt and the temple wandered a creature—or perhaps not a creature—a warrior in golden armor, on a huge horse, with spear and shield. Both were massive. I kept my distance.
I cautiously descended to approach the ruined temple.
"Oh, wildlife!" I exclaimed, spotting sheep grazing. Food was available. I wouldn't starve.
"Bah…" one bleated at me. Then, in a ridiculous display, it somersaulted and rolled away.
"Pff, ha-ha-ha…" I couldn't help laughing. It felt like a release after the crypt ordeal, turning the path to the temple ruins into a leisurely stroll. I avoided the giant knight's gaze.
I entered the temple through a wall breach and immediately found the trader Varre mentioned.
Two figures sat by a fire. One, a pale, gaunt man in an eastern-style fur-lined outfit and red hat, reminiscent of a shabby Santa suit. He held a lute-like instrument. His skin was gray, hair dirty gray.
The second, an even thinner horse, grazed nearby. Heavy bags of scraps—perhaps his trade goods—lay beside him.
"Ashen soul," the man noticed me immediately. "Come closer… perhaps you want to buy something?"
"Clothes?" I asked.
He scrutinized me.
"Yes, I have good chainmail, if you like."
"Simple clothes?"
"Hmm… if rags suffice…"
He set aside the instrument and showed me plain linen tunic and pants. Simple, with some slipper-like shoes.
"Wait, hold on!" I retreated, running back from the temple, activating a new Grace point for fast travel.
I cut my finger on a blade of grass, extracting golden sand, and retrieved a rune sphere from my desert pouch—my currency. I didn't want the trader to see it all.
"I'm back… what else can I get besides clothes?" I asked, showing a sphere.
"Hmm… not much," he mused. "I can add a dagger."
He produced a small knife.
"They're not for fighting—throw at enemies. You have nothing, right?"
"A map?"
He shook his head.
"Some places have obelisks with local lands engraved. You can copy them if you find one."
"Got it…" At least I had clothes. I paid and changed, leaving the banner as a cloak. Still looked like a ragged vagabond.
"For now, my name's Kron," I said.
He nodded. "I'm Kale."
"You're a nomad?"
"Yes, wandering from place to place selling goods. I stayed here. Don't lose me. In these times of madness, the world relies on Ashen like you."
"Recently arrived… is it really this bad?"
"Oh, yes… empty villages, deserted cities, aimless madmen. And they ignore my goods."
"Right. You've traveled a lot? Explain what's here."
"Hmm… okay." He sighed. "Where to begin?"
"For example, these ruins?"
"Old Elle temple. People once worshipped a goddess here. Now, barely anyone comes."
"And the rubble over there?"
"Farum Azula, I believe."
"Wait, what?"
"City of Dragons, once in the skies. Long ago, Marika's army destroyed them. Those ruins bear witness to those grand battles."
"Wow…"
I peeked through the wall breach at a massive Azula fragment. Scattered debris, clearly visible.
"And magic? Is there a place to learn it?"
"Yes… probably…" Kale said doubtfully. "In northern Lake Liurnia, the Raya Lucaria Academy. But after the mages' rebellion, it's sealed."
"Sealed?"
"When Radagon left Queen Rennala, her power weakened. Opportunists rebelled."
"Radagon? Rennala?"
"You… where did you come from?" Kale stared, shocked.
"Um… far away…"
"You've missed a lot… Radagon, second husband of Marika. Before that, he fought the kingdom of Caer, met Rennala, allied through marriage. Radagon and Marika were both demigods; their children inherited great power. Radan Star-Beach, Ricard Lord-Heretic, and Rennie the Sorceress."
"Radagon a god too?"
"Arrived with Marika."
"And now the demigods?"
"Ricard rules Altus Plateau's west. Radan fought his sister Malenia. Red rot spreads, General Radan went mad, craving war and blood. Warriors gather in the Star Wastes to challenge him."
"Malenia?"
"Daughter of Radagon and Marika. Also Miquella. Both cursed at birth. Perhaps the Great Will opposed this union."
"Cursed how?"
"Malenia born with red rot, decays alive but somehow resists it. Miquella remained a child… vanished, I hear."
"Rennie?"
"Unknown. When demigod wars began, she disappeared."
"Wars of the demigods?"
"Not historian… great runes drove them mad, fighting for Elden's throne. Children of Rennala and Marika waged centuries-long war."
"Ah…"
I fell silent, pondering. Then I asked about Godrick.
"Descendant of Godwin, Marika's firstborn. Lord of Stormveil…"
"The castle there?"
"Yes. Mighty fortress atop Storm Hill. Saw it from the Waiting Chapel."
"Godwin…?"
"Firstborn of Marika and Godfrey. That's where the madness began."
"And he did…?"
"He was killed. Seemingly immortal demigods can die. Marika, in grief, shattered the Elden Ring, plunging the world into chaos."
"Yeah…"
A real fantasy soap opera here: intrigue, kings, civil war, dragons, magic. Like George R.R. Martin writing a Dark Souls fanfic.