Elden Ring: Putrefaction of Gold

The Testament of the Flame Pt1

Marika used to not feel cold, but she sure felt it now without the embrace of fire. She watched the now still skies of the night. The palace she built to keep her children close and safe began to feel empty.

There was so much she could have said to Ranni about the situation. Nothing to make it better, but at least to soothe the worst feeling of it all: the feeling that she was alone.

No, daughter... Ranni was her daughter. As conflicted as she was to think that, it was the absolute truth. Radagon was her, and she was Radagon. She sought to end the Carian's influence in the Lands-Between so that she may spread her influence. It was her, in failing that, who seduced Rennala and conceived the children of the Carian Royal Family. Despite not wanting it, she decided to leave Rennala and return to her other half. And she felt no remorse for doing any of it, for what it had done to unite her kingdom.

While Marika had come to despise her other half-even as she had despised herself- perhaps she began to see where this position could be advantageous. She could feel those feelings-love, empathy, kindness - once again, now that she and Radagon were made whole. And yet, she was no less of a god, having now accepted her other half. She began to question whether she ever needed to abandon herself.

The Fingers challenged what they thought of as defiance.

"Why doth thou need these children born of thy son and daughter? What purpose do they serve to us and the Greater Will?" the Fingers hissed.

"The Greater Will? Hath either of us ever spoken to such a thing? I seem to doubt that. As for thee, doth thou not understand that not all things need have a purpose unto thee?" Marika cried in protest.

Alas, it was useless to explain to a being no more intelligent than fungus that she allowed the two precious grandchildren to be conceived for no reason other than wanting them. There was no greater scheme. She wanted nothing of the children conceived. The decision to leave her son and stepdaughter alone in the chamber, even knowing the follies of youth of that age, had no order to its logic.

These little children were something for Marika to love, and that was all. It was just a longing, as Marika rubbed her shortened braid, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

She knew more than anyone could possibly know about what it was like to have to surrender her children. The hardest part was knowing exactly what had happened.

Just before the purge, Messmer gave a little smirk as he waited in his study. Tardiness was a habit of his sister's since the day she was born.

On that day, Messmer was ordered to wait in the chapel until someone fetched him when his mother was done. Not the library that he might at least have the company of books. Not with his tutor that he could at least argue things he had little knowledge of. The church where there was nothing but this faint counterfeit idol of her carved in stone.

He kicked the back of the seat in front of him until the finish had worn off from the friction. He hated that he had to wait while no one seemed interested in giving him even the slightest word about his mother. Of course, the Hornsent cared nothing for her - or him, for that matter. If she died, they could request more "ingredients" from their potentaits to form another "saint" like her.

His tutors made it sound like their ability to casually toy with life was a strength. They boasted of their great discoveries but never of their compassion. There was no compassion, only the pride of imitating divinity.

"Then why don't you?" Messmer snapped once he grew sick of their boasting. Their faces alone made the comment well worth the consequences that followed.

After somewhere between forever and eternity, Messmer grew sick of sitting in the chapel with nothing more than the statue of his mother to keep him company. They pretended as though it was in any way a substitute for the real thing. Soon, he huffed in frustration and headed out in the hall.