Perhaps it was because he had been in contact with too much St. Trina's Lily pollen while soothing the spirits earlier that day, but as Gawain gazed at the distant scenery, he found himself overcome by drowsiness. Without realizing it, his eyes fluttered shut, his head lollied to the side, and he began to snore softly against Melina's shoulder.
Melina, who was sitting nearby in a formal seiza position helping him channel the power of the Scadutree Fragments, had been lost in her own thoughts. The sudden weight against her shoulder made her startle.
A faint blush crept across her cheeks. Once the initial tension faded, she let out a quiet sigh of relief. She didn't push him away; instead, she gently guided him down, letting his head rest pillowed upon her lap.
She gazed down at his sleeping face in silence, a wave of warmth washing over her. The last time they had shared a moment like this was back when they first entered Caelid.
Though not much time had passed in the grand scheme of things, so much had happened in between. Now, she could truly see the future where he became the Elden Lord.
For a brief moment, Melina allowed herself to forget the mission that usually occupied her mind and the countless lives of the Lands Between. She simply enjoyed this rare, quiet interval. After all, who knew what tomorrow would bring?
Looking toward the blurred silhouette of the distant city, an idea for something useful came to her. She traced her fingertips through the air, and tiny golden runes began to coalesce, forming into the shape of a thin, translucent membrane.
The next morning, Gawain woke from a strange dream. In it, a woman's voice had been calling to him, urging him in a specific direction.
He was certain that within the dream, he had known her identity—and that it was someone quite shocking—but upon waking, the details vanished. All that remained was the sense of the direction she had pointed him toward.
"Good morning. Did you rest well?"
A gentle voice pulled Gawain back to reality. He opened his eyes and, through the golden film covering his pupils, saw Melina smiling down at him.
"I'm alright. Just had a weird dream. Wait... what's wrong with my eyes?"
"I used runes to create a veiling membrane for you, mimicking the look of Grace. Though it is a hollow deception meant only to mislead, I thought it might at least reduce the hostility of the warriors serving my brother."
Gawain touched the corner of his eye, feeling the thin, foreign presence. He blinked a few times, pretending to be uncomfortable, then rolled over face-down on her lap in a display of mock-laziness.
"My eyes feel a bit weird. Forget it, let me sleep a bit longer to get used to it. Maybe I'll remember what I was dreaming about."
Melina looked down at Gawain, who was clearly just making excuses to stay put. She knew his heart wasn't quite aligned with his words.
Sleeping was one thing, but why did he suddenly flip over face-down and start wiggling? The ticklish sensation against her thighs made her face flush. She gave his cheek a light, playful pat.
"Alright, enough. You said we needed to reach the cross-marker today. We need to hurry and set out."
Gawain wasn't used to seeing Melina this energetic. She even gave him a deliberate blink with her gloam-colored eye, as if cheering him on. It was hard to imagine this was the same stoic, almost expressionless girl he had known before they entered the Land of Shadow.
Since she had made the call, he felt too embarrassed to linger. He flipped upright, stood in one fluid motion, and summoned Torrent to continue their journey toward the cross.
Beneath the remains of their campfire, a single St. Trina's Lily finished evaporating its last trace of scent, leaving only mundane petals behind.
Leaving the Scorched Ruins behind, the Gravesite Plain offered little else in the way of threats now that the Furnace Golem was gone. Gawain rode Torrent along the central road toward the marker.
He stopped occasionally to observe the landscape. The withered trees erupting from the ground looked like the spreading roots of the massive Scadutree in the distance. In that regard, it was strikingly similar to the Erdtree. He found it impossible to believe there was no connection between these two towering monoliths.
His attention was drawn not only to the Carian-style architecture in the distance but also to a staggeringly tall stone pillar atop the rear cliffs. Such an obvious landmark surely held great significance, though that was a destination for another day.
As the sky in the Land of Shadow began to dim, a shimmering golden mark finally appeared in his vision. It was exactly as depicted on his map—clearly the landmark Leda had mentioned.
He signaled Torrent to stop and dismissed him back into the ring. Three figures were already gathered beneath the golden sign. He recognized two of them: Leda and Freyja.
The third was a strange, masked individual. One of the Hornsent? Gawain wondered.
Tucking his curiosity away, Gawain approached. Leda had been expecting him and noticed him first. She waved and walked forward to greet them.
"You two have arrived at last. I thought I would be the final one to get here, but it seems you enjoy making a bit more of a scene than I anticipated."
Leda glanced in the direction of the ruined Furnace Golem. She had arrived at the cross the previous evening and had witnessed exactly what had become of the iron giant. She had expected to catch up to Gawain, but after searching and failing to find him, she had proceeded to the rendezvous point.
"That big thing was an eyesore, so I took care of it. Is the one behind you the 'companion' you mentioned?"
Leda nodded and introduced them as she turned back.
"Freyja needs no introduction, of course. However, the other one's identity is somewhat unique."
"He has no name; you may simply call him 'Hornsent.' While his personality can be cold and perhaps a bit strange, he is a follower of Kind Miquella, and he will provide us with assistance on our path."
Gawain frowned at the name. Truthfully, his impression of the Hornsent so far was less than stellar. While he didn't care much about the man's attitude, for Leda's sake, he felt he should clear the air.
"On my way here, I didn't just deal with the golem. I also had some... minor unpleasantness with several Hornsent. You understand what I mean."
Leda recalled the mangled corpse of a Curseblade she had seen upon entering the plain. That was likely the "minor unpleasantness" he spoke of.
She felt a brief moment of relief that Mohg's body had been preserved so well under the Storm Lord's brutal combat style; it was truly a miracle.
"Do not worry. Most of these people lost their minds after the fires of the crusade. I suspect the ones you encountered were among the mindless. If they dared to attack a guest invited by Kind Miquella, you cannot be blamed for acting in self-defense. I stand with you on this."
Gawain considered this and decided to keep Melina behind him as they approached the others.
Up close, the Hornsent's attire was an eyesore. His upper body was wrapped in a chaotic mess of rags salvaged from who-knows-where, showing clear signs of being scorched by fire. His lower half lacked anything resembling trousers—aside from a loincloth and a few hanging tatters, his legs were completely exposed.
His face was hidden behind a grotesque, disturbing mask, covered by a black caterpillar-like growth. Black horns protruded from the rags covering his head, confirming his heritage.
First impressions were poor. In Gawain's experience, such characters were either surprisingly kind-hearted or complete lunatics; there was rarely a middle ground.
The Hornsent, who had been standing with his arms crossed in a standoffish manner, suddenly spoke.
"So, you are the companion Leda mentioned? Let me be clear: I have no love for you outsiders."
"The Erdtree forces represented by Marika betrayed us. They sent armies to seize our cities and burn my kin. Even if Miquella offers his sincere apologies and I choose to believe in his vow of salvation, it does not mean I am willing to play nice with the likes of you."
As he finished, the Hornsent's gaze shifted to Melina, who was watching him from behind Gawain. He sniffed the air, then pointed a finger directly at her.
"Especially you. You carry a scent I despise. You smell like that cursed Marika and her lackeys. I wanted to kill you the moment I laid eyes on you."
"But since Leda says you were invited by Miquella, and in light of you taking down that Furnace Golem, I will spare you for now."
The Hornsent's blatant hostility caused the air to go cold.
"Oh, he's dead," Freyja muttered, looking at the Hornsent as if he were already a ghost. He clearly had no idea who he was provoking. Still, since he was technically an ally, she hoped it wouldn't be too gruesome.
Leda's expression turned grim. She had specifically warned everyone the night before that these two were guests Miquella himself had guided her to find. She hadn't expected him to be so impulsive. She moved to stop him, but she was too late.
A fountain of blood erupted. The Hornsent stared blankly as his arm flew through the air. He hadn't even seen what happened before a searing pain tore through his left shoulder. He collapsed to one knee, clutching the stump.
Gawain shouldered his Greatsword, looking down at the kneeling man with cold indifference.
"Who taught you to speak to my Maiden that way?"
Truthfully, if the man had just pointed at Gawain, he might have been annoyed but wouldn't have bothered to retaliate. But the moment the threat was directed at Melina, his restraint vanished.
"I don't know the history of this place, and for now, I don't care about your grudges. I was invited here while searching for Miquella."
"So, do not do anything else I find offensive. Do it while I still don't find your kind completely repulsive."
The Hornsent stared at the massive blade held near his neck. For a moment, the endless hatred and Miquella's enchantment were stripped away, replaced by a raw, soul-shaking terror.
As a native of the Land of Shadow, he knew outsiders' power was suppressed here. But what kind of monster was this? Even suppressed, his movements were too fast to track. And that slab of iron he called a sword—he swung it like a toy.
The Hornsent immediately regretted his attitude. If such a man became an enemy of his people, he would be a threat on the level of Messmer himself. No wonder Miquella valued him so highly.
"What's wrong? You're not satisfied? If you're not satisfied, then take flight."
A storm coalesced beneath the Hornsent, swirling him into the air before a fist glowing with purple gravitational light sent him flying several meters. He tumbled across the ground before coming to a stop.
Leda and Freyja watched, their eyelids twitching. Of all the people to provoke, he chose the Maiden who was never more than a step away from Gawain.
Leda signaled Freyja to check if the Hornsent was still breathing, then stepped forward to diffuse the tension.
"Gawain, please, stay your hand. We still need the support of the Hornsent people. These people have suffered mentally during this long war; those seeking revenge can be... unpleasant in their speech, but their contribution is indispensable."
"The map I gave you was drawn by them. They know the traces of Kind Miquella better than anyone. To catch up with him, we cannot lose their cooperation."
Gawain looked at the Hornsent, who lay in the dirt like a heap of wet rags. His anger had cooled slightly. He looked back at Melina, then finally lowered his weapon.
He would give Leda face this time. Besides, since these people were trapped in the Land of Shadow, he could settle the score whenever he pleased.
"Fine. I'll let it go for now. So, tell me—what is this cross?"
Leda breathed a sigh of relief. She was truly afraid the Hornsent was finished; even with Miquella's guidance, exploring this vast land without a map would be difficult.
She turned toward the cross and knelt, reverently touching the trace Miquella had left behind.
"Kind Miquella... he grew disillusioned with the Lands Between and the Golden Order itself."
"After the bloody conspiracy, he followed his plan and left the Haligtree, seeking answers here in the Land of Shadow, where all secrets are buried. To do so, he did not hesitate to discard his body, his connection to the Golden Order, and even his own fate."
"The cross you see now is a guide formed from a part of Kind Miquella's discarded flesh."
"We need only follow these crosses to walk the path he once took. As natives, the Hornsent know the locations of these crosses perfectly. They will provide us with the necessary aid."
Gawain frowned. What was Miquella trying to achieve by leaving pieces of his corpse everywhere to signify his break from the Golden Order?
He looked at the unconscious Hornsent and thought of the war between Marika's son, Messmer, and these people. Was Miquella trying to win their favor?
Approaching the cross, Gawain reached out to touch it. Words manifested in his mind:
"I abandon here the first of my flesh."
Looking at the Sacramental Buds growing beneath the cross, Gawain couldn't help but marvel at Miquella's ruthlessness. He was truly cutting himself apart piece by piece as he went.
In this Land of Shadow, where all deaths converge, the boundary between soul and matter was blurred. He could imagine that no matter how much physical damage Miquella sustained, he would continue as a spirit.
Leda stood up after a moment of silent prayer. Fortunately, the Hornsent had told her the location of the next cross before losing consciousness, so they didn't need his immediate help.
"Gawain, let us not delay. Through this road, you will find Belurat, the Tower Settlement—the most important city of the Hornsent. Two more of our companions are waiting there."
"One is a venerable sage, and the other has gathered many useful supplies. They should be able to assist you."
"Alright," Gawain replied. "Let's head out."
Leda pulled another map from her armor and handed it to Freyja, signaling her to go ahead and find the other crosses—and to make sure the Hornsent didn't actually die.
Freyja nodded and watched the two leave. She scratched her head, looking at the crater in the ground. Just as she was about to pull the Hornsent up to check on him, he suddenly snapped his eyes open.
"Get away from me," he spat venomously. "Do your own work. I have not fallen so low that I need help from the Golden Order."
Freyja clenched her fist, resisting the urge to punch him. She was afraid a single strike in his current state might actually kill him.
The Hornsent picked up his severed arm. From his tattered clothes, he produced a bottle of unknown medicine and reattached the limb. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he glared toward Belurat.
He hadn't been mistaken. That woman carried the scent of Marika's lineage—the same as that cursed Messmer. He lacked the strength for revenge now and had to endure, and Miquella's enchantment kept his impulses in check.
"I must live," he hissed. "I must live to see the day Marika's children receive their retribution."
Support me here: https://[email protected]/AuAuMon
Elden Ring: In the Name of Ash (330 chapter - Ongoing)
Join the journey and become part of the story!