Melina watched Gawain as he tinkered with a blackened, lump-like object. Her curiosity eventually got the better of her, and she manifested her form to ask, "What exactly is that? Is it a furnace of some kind?"
"This is a Transposing Kiln," Gawain replied without looking up. "I don't know the exact principles behind it, but its creator, Ludleth, had reached a level of research into souls that could only be described as blasphemous."
Gawain recalled the fragments of conversation he'd had with Ludleth of Courland. After the Lord had bequeathed his embers to him, Gawain had naturally inherited his kiln. While his understanding of souls couldn't match the brilliance of Ludleth—who could make souls perform all sorts of wonders—he was proficient enough with the basics.
"Remember my promise to Edgar about healing his daughter's eyes?"
Melina nodded. She had considered many methods and found none that could truly purge the Frenzied Flame residing within a person. It was an almost unsolvable problem. Was this kiln the key?
"As you know, I can absorb and assimilate the power of the Frenzied Flame. For ordinary people, as long as it isn't too late, I can directly purge the corruption from their bodies. But Irina is different; she has the qualities of a Frenzied Flame Maiden. The flame within her is bound much deeper. While she isn't an Empyrean playing host to an Outer God like Malenia the Severed, the Outer God representing the Frenzied Flame has clearly chosen her. There is a constant stream of power being funneled into her. You must know what that 'candlelight' she sees in her clouded vision signifies."
This was the problem Gawain intended to solve. The "candlelight" Irina saw was likely the source of the Frenzied Flame constantly influencing her, drawing her to embrace the madness and become a proper Maiden. Even without the rebellion, she would have eventually been seduced into madness, much like the Fire Monks on the mountaintops. It was a miracle she had grown to this age with her sanity intact.
"To be honest, I don't know how to surgically remove the influence of an Outer God. So, I'm going to engage it in a tug-of-war and see who blinks first."
Melina seemed to realize his intent. "You mean to continuously absorb the Frenzied Flame residing within her, forcing the entity behind it to give up? Isn't that a bit... reckless?"
Gawain knew it was a crude method, but it was the only one he could try.
"It is. But I've seen a perfect precedent: a pair of royal brothers known as the Twin Princes. The younger brother was cursed from birth—sickly and frail. His older brother, raised as a knight, eventually chose to entwine and fuse his soul with his brother's. He shared the burden of the curse, losing his voice and his ability to walk, but the younger brother's health improved significantly as a result."
Yet another title she had never heard. Melina felt a pang of sorrow just imagining the state of these "Twin Princes."
"You mean to use this method to share her curse? Is such a thing truly possible?"
Gawain shrugged. If he were certain, he would have done it already.
"I don't know. I told you before, the souls of people in the Lands Between are different from where I come from. I don't know if what I know applies here. That's why, to ensure success on the first try, I have to test it on another soul first. If it works in theory, the Transposing Kiln will help me link my soul with a chosen target in a state similar to the Twin Princes—but without the permanent, malformed entanglement. A slight connection will suffice."
"By linking our souls to share blessings or curses, I can siphon the Frenzied Flame out of Irina. Even if the God of Frenzy refuses to let go, it doesn't matter; the more it sends, the more I'll absorb. I'll see who runs out of patience first. Once the flame is gone, I can move on to healing her eyes. That part, at least, is the easy step."
Gawain thought back to his past. Soul-melding was a technique that had been clearly demonstrated as far back as the "Twin Dragonriders" of the old capital, and by the end of the world, the souls of countless Lords of Cinder had fused within the First Flame. Over the long ages of the Fire, the technique had evolved into many variants. In the Twin Princes, it manifested as a soul so entangled it was grotesque.
Ludleth's research had been deep enough to turn even his frail self into a Lord of Cinder. The knowledge in Gawain's mind included not just soul transposition, but various forms of soul-melding. Back at Firelink Shrine, he had learned several techniques, sometimes using them with his familiar comrades.
Because of the soul-level connection, they could even share a portion of their health pools or miracles during battle. Though the effect was subtle, the ability to sense a partner's location at all times made it invaluable—especially for a certain "stout fellow" who constantly needed Gawain to bail him out of prison. The inspiration for this had come from the Twin Princes; in the game, you had to kill the younger prince to truly win.
Reality mirrored that. Prince Lorian had willingly given up everything for his brother. The dominant consciousness of their fused souls resided in Prince Lothric; as long as Lothric remained, Lorian would keep rising to fight.
Before Gawain and Sirris had finally faced the Twin Princes, they had performed a deep soul-melding ritual of their own. The result was that their combat coordination improved drastically, and Sirris could even unleash some of his skills—albeit weakened versions. Back then, the Twin Princes weren't the only ones capable of pulling off a high-octane "tag-team" combo.
A small, unconscious smile touched Gawain's lips as he remembered those days. The Transposing Kiln began to glow with fire. The preparations were complete. Next came the delicate task of adjusting the process based on the unique nature of souls in the Lands Between. If he could successfully meld with Lhutel and repair her soul, he could apply the same method to Irina.
As he operated the device, the flames within the kiln began to melt and entwine a small portion of his soul with Lhutel's. The process was far from smooth. Subtle differences between her soul and the ones in his memory made controlling the intensity extremely difficult.
Sweat poured down Gawain's forehead. The process was grueling for him as well. Under the massive drain on his energy, the Darksign on his chest—which had been suppressed—re-emerged. Tiny black threads began to snake out from it. That mark of the curse even traveled along the soul-link, spreading onto the surface of Lhutel's soul.
Despite the hurdles, he eventually completed the ritual. Next was the task of repairing her damaged spirit. He let out a breath of relief and began chugging from his Estus Flask. The restorative effect flowed through his soul into Lhutel. Her long-severed head began to manifest and mend.
Lhutel regained consciousness from a long, silent slumber. She opened her eyes, dazed. The last thing she remembered was willingly severing her head to follow Godwyn into death, believing that one day, when the soulless demigod returned, she would return to the Erdtree as a hero. Since she was awake now, did that mean...?
Before she could finish the thought, she realized she was in a strange place—nothing like the Erdtree she had imagined.
Where... am I?
The silent thought in her heart produced a sudden, jarring echo in the space around her. Feeling a wave of heat from above, she looked up, and her newly restored consciousness nearly short-circuited again.
A massive, circular silhouette hung in the sky above. Its center was filled with absolute blackness, while its edges burned with a raging, solar fire. One could clearly see a small piece missing from the ring. There, the weak flames were being eaten away by a black substance—it was unclear if it was leaking from the center or if the surrounding infinite darkness was trying to snuff out the fire.
An eclipsed sun. That was the only description she could find for the sight. As Lhutel stood there in a daze, a gentle voice suddenly whispered in her ear.
"Are you lost, wandering soul?"
Startled by the voice, she instinctively tried to strike back with her spear, but she found herself empty-handed, unable to manifest even a basic incantation. A figure dressed in black and wearing a blindfold patted her on the shoulder, signaling her to remain calm. The figure then walked a few steps forward, staring up at the massive ring in the sky as if in deep thought.
"Who are you? Has Lord Godwyn's soul returned?"
The figure turned and shook her head.
"My apologies. I do not know of this 'Godwyn.' I am the Fi... no, I am the mistress of this place. This is not where you belong. Please leave at once. Do you see the bonfire behind you? Touch it, and your consciousness will be sent back to your familiar reality."
Lhutel wanted to ask more, but she suddenly realized she could no longer move. At some point, countless black threads had wrapped around her, binding her fast. The woman walked up to her and reached out, taking a tiny, almost invisible fragment of Lhutel's soul.
"By doing this, you will not remember what you have seen here after you leave. However, please aid that man. It was his effort that saved your soul. Farewell."
The woman reached out her hand, and Lhutel's vision blurred. She felt as though she were being pushed back across an infinite distance. The bonfire the woman mentioned appeared before her. The moment her hand was forced to touch the flame, her body—regaining its freedom—instinctively looked back one last time. That single glance left her stunned.
Beneath the burning, eclipsed ring stood five massive thrones. Figures of varying shapes and sizes sat upon them, motionless. Then, she forgot everything she had seen, leaving that dark yet strangely warm place.
The Fire Keeper stood beside one of the thrones and let out a sigh of relief as the intruder was finally sent out. She hadn't expected such a result; she would have to be more careful next time.
"It seems Ash is still his usual self, running around saving people. Still, it is heartening to see the techniques I taught him being put to such use."
Ludleth, seated on his throne, let out a long breath. The seat that had once been a source of agony was now a place of leisure; he seemed much more cheerful. Or perhaps, as it was his only reason for being, this was the only place he could feel at peace.
The Fire Keeper clutched the "Eyes" in her palm, a small, unconscious smile appearing as she thought of Gawain. "Lord Ash has always been this way. No matter where he is or what identity he holds, that will never change."
"He might meld his soul with others in the future," Ludleth noted, leaning back. "Do not be so careless as to let outsiders in again next time. This is our final home of rest; I do not care to be disturbed by strangers. But... do you really think you can keep your presence hidden from him forever?"
The Fire Keeper thought back to the moments before they decided to end the fire. She felt a pang of longing but shook her head.
"No. Even if Lord Ash will eventually find out about this place, let it be delayed as long as possible. I do not wish for him to carry more burdens. I could feel his struggle and hesitation when he made the difficult choice to extinguish the flame. The curse of the Fire was too heavy for him. At the very least, let him find a peaceful harbor in this new world."
Ludleth rested his chin on his hand, looking up at the broken gap in the sky. He thought about the events of the last few days; this new place didn't exactly feel "peaceful."
"But you know that day will come eventually. You cannot repair the broken Darksign from the inside. He must cooperate from the outside. When that happens, your existence—our existence—can no longer be hidden."
"When that time comes, I believe he will no longer be troubled by the past."
Ludleth nodded, then glanced at the other thrones. "Speaking of which, do you not plan to release them? They likely no longer wish to be his enemies."
The Fire Keeper's gentle tone turned icy. "I remember exactly how many times each of them killed Lord Ash. This is a fitting retribution. A Lord of Cinder should remain on his throne."
Ludleth looked at the Fire Keeper with a mix of surprise and pity. In his memory, she was someone to be respected, but never this... intense. Why had she revealed this side of herself after the fire was gone? He could only guess that, in extinguishing the flame, she had discarded her duties as a Fire Keeper. As she said, her identity now was the mistress of this place.
"Still... I do agree that the 'Drowning Pig' deserves his retribution," Ludleth chuckled.
He looked at a mass of black sludge tied to a throne, trembling incessantly. Beside that throne, a white figure was relentlessly beating the sludge. The figure used whatever was at hand—fists, tails, and finally even a Sacred Chime—all while shouting something about "doing this for Elder Brother."
"Well," Ludleth mused, "it turns out that when one doesn't have to worry about the fire fading tomorrow, the business of being a Lord of Cinder is much more pleasant than I imagined. My bones don't even hurt that much anymore."
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Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (40 chapter - Ongoing)
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