The An0maly

As she caught her breath by the quiet shores of Lake Agheel, her eyes lingered on the water's silver ripples, dawn's reluctant light brushing trembling reflections across her face. The silence pressed heavily around her, thick with thought and memory.

"Void… are you still there?"

At first, there was nothing. Then, a trembling warmth pooled within her chest, mingled with a creeping chill – emotions not her own. Regret. Worry. Affection. They coiled around her heart like smoke curling through forgotten halls, and with them came a voice – ragged and distant, barely a whisper upon her mind:

Always… here… Light…

A faint shiver ran down her spine at the sound of it. She sank to her knees by the lake's edge, scooping cool water into her palms and splashing it over her flushed face. Memories of the morning's chaos clawed at her thoughts, and she found herself speaking aloud, voice quiet and tired.

"I… I was chased by wolves, you know… a whole pack of them."

The Void remained silent, but she felt its attention sharpen within her.

"I couldn't outrun them… so I ran into the forest to lose them. Found two massive bears fighting each other…"

There was a silent pulse within her mind, followed by a faint whisper:

…Rune… Bear…

She blinked, breath hitching.

"Rune bears, I think… thank you."

She let out a weak laugh, though it held no humour.

"Turns out this… body has its improvements. I dodged them when they got close… I could feel the ground cracking under my feet with each push. Slid right between those bears. They tore into the wolves chasing me, so… here I am, alive, I guess."

The words tumbled out in a quiet rush. Silence followed, thick with hidden thoughts. Then, like shadows gathering beneath ancient trees, darkness pooled at her feet. It rose, swirling around her with soundless grace until it wove itself into a cloak so dark it seemed to drink all light. Its hood fell low over her brow, casting her face into comforting twilight.

She touched it with trembling fingers. It was cold and warm all at once, like night rain upon heated skin.

"…Why are you giving me this now?"

A ripple of warmth and sorrow passed through her chest as the Void whispered, fragmented yet filled with quiet resolve:

…safety… protection…

No further words came, only memories spilling into her mind – shadows woven from visions not her own.

She saw a figure gliding between pools of darkness, flickering in and out of sight like dying candlelight. Each shadow they touched became a doorway; each flicker of moonless night, a path hidden from the world. Their eyes burned faintly within the dark, and when they drew a curved blade, its gleam was fleeting – there, then gone – a whisper of finality before silence swallowed it.

The vision dissolved into black mist, leaving her chest restless. Another memory rose.

A woman walked upon frostbitten stone beneath drifting ash, her veiled hair flowing like fallen snow. Slender hands gripped a long, blackened scythe, and from its curved blade bled an unearthly darkness. The vision pulsed, shifting – Evelyn saw the woman standing beside a towering, smouldering figure cloaked in cinders, their forms united by purpose and fury. The woman raised her scythe high as shadows gathered at her feet, swirling into a vortex of darkness laced with ghostly frost. When she swept the weapon down, a great black flame erupted forth, stretching across the frozen ground in a torrent that burned hot and cold at once, devouring all light in its wake. The air warped around its edge, and the silent roar of that dark inferno echoed in Evelyn's chest, filling her with ancient dread.

Before her heart could still, a final memory bloomed.

A man moved silently through alleys lit only by flickering lanterns. His hood concealed his eyes, but when they caught the light, they gleamed with cunning focus. He moved like drifting smoke, each step silent, each breath measured. His gloved fingers brushed a golden trinket upon a merchant's belt – it simply vanished, as if darkness itself had chosen to walk unseen among them.

When the memory faded, confusion and unease gnawed at her chest.

"…Why are you showing me these things?"

The Void's voice returned, softer and more fragmented, its words stitched together with flickers of feeling.

…danger… keep… safe… until… we… meet… again… Light…

Warmth and sorrow tangled around her heart at its fractured tenderness. She clenched her jaw, gathering fragile threads of resolve.

"Don't… don't call me that."

Silence answered her.

She hesitated, tasting the words upon her tongue, foreign yet comfortingly hers.

"My name… my name is Evelyn."

A flicker of memory surfaced alongside it: a dim tower lost within a dream, an ancient clock ticking away eternity, and a woman in pale robes standing vigil over an empty throne. Evelyn. That would be her name.

She did not know why the name felt comforting – only that it carried the echo of silver gunsmoke and forgotten grace, like a prayer whispered across lifetimes. A beautiful name, she decided. Strong enough to cradle her kindness, and sharp enough to guard it.

In the quiet that followed, the Void seemed to hold its breath. Then, it sighed softly, a fleeting echo of acceptance rippling through her thoughts. A final memory rose – a ruined church cradled in the dark boughs of an ancient forest, its lantern casting shadows across moss-covered stone. It felt… familiar. Almost like home.

…Church… of Elleh…

The words faded into quiet slumber, its presence sinking away into the depths of her being.

Evelyn exhaled shakily, gazing down at her cloak of shadows. As she rose to her feet, she let her fingers brush its living threads, feeling dark warmth coil against her skin.

"Shadowstep…" she whispered to herself, naming its silent flicker through darkness.

She closed her eyes, remembering the black flame that devoured frost and light alike.

"Blackflame…"

She thought of the hooded thief who moved like drifting shade.

"Shade Weaver…"

A small smile curved her lips. Pulling her hood low, she let shadows gather at her feet as she turned towards the distant ruins of the church.

Evelyn moved like a fading breeze through the dying twilight.

Shadow pooled at her feet with each step, rising to cradle her before dissolving into silent nothingness. She felt the world blur around her as she slipped between the folds of darkness, the ache in her legs vanishing each time her form flickered and reappeared a few paces ahead. Shadow Step, she named it – a fitting echo of what the void showed her.

Yet even with this silent weaving through the land, the journey drained her. Her chest burned with shallow breaths as the last slivers of sunlight bled out beyond the horizon, leaving only the indigo wash of encroaching night. The Mistwood loomed behind her, its ghostly canopies whispering farewell as she emerged onto the open road.

Ahead, half hidden by a jutting cliff and scattered trees, stood a small stone structure illuminated by the fading light – the Church of Elleh.

She paused at the edge of its crumbled courtyard, the shadows gathering close around her, curling like affectionate cats along her ankles. Her golden eyes flickered in the gloom as she studied the ruined arches and broken columns, half reclaimed by wild grass and moss. She felt its familiarity hum in her chest, quiet and unsettling.

So this is it… the place you showed me.

Her cloak, dark as the void between stars, rustled softly against her calves as she stepped forward, cautious yet resolute. She let her hand brush the rough stone of a fallen pillar, feeling its chill seep into her skin. The world felt still now – silent, almost reverent, as if holding its breath in her presence.

Evelyn's fingers curled around the jagged edge of the fallen pillar, the cool stone rough beneath her skin.

In that instant, something stirred within her.

A sudden rush – like a dam breaking under the weight of a hidden sea. Her vision blurred, and the world around her dissolved into light and shadow, memory and feeling.

She gasped softly as places and names bloomed in her mind, carried on the echo of ancient winds.

Limgrave.

She saw its rolling hills bathed in golden dawn, scattered with wild goats grazing among ruins swallowed by moss. She felt the chill breeze of the high cliffs overlooking jagged shores where skeletal mariners drifted silently in spectral boats. She heard the cries of eagles circling far above Stormgate, and smelled the scent of broken earth where trolls once roamed in iron shackles.

She felt the coarse dust of the roads upon her bare feet, remembered the tarnished grace of knights whose armor gleamed like dying stars. She saw lone campfires dotting the plains in the dark, where wanderers rested with blades laid beside them and heads bowed in silent prayer or weary sleep.

She remembered the fierce roars of rune bears as they tore down trees in rage, and the bright wings of dragonflies shimmering above still waters. She felt the trembling earth as an ancient dragon descended upon Lake Agheel with thunderous wings, shaking the world with its wrath.

She knew it all.

Limgrave – its pain, its beauty, its hunger and quiet dignity. A land drenched in fallen grace, where every blade of grass whispered of forgotten battles and the yearning of exiled souls.

Evelyn's grip tightened upon the stone as her breathing slowed. Tears welled in her eyes, unbidden and silent, rolling down her cheeks as the last light of dusk vanished entirely, leaving only moonlight and the cool dark to cradle her.

This land… I know it. I… remember it.

And within her chest, something settled. The knowledge did not bring comfort, nor sorrow alone. It simply was – a truth that wove itself into her being.

She let her hand drop from the pillar, her shadowed cloak billowing softly in the rising night breeze. Her golden eyes flickered with a quiet, thoughtful light as she gazed out across the dark plains of Limgrave, the fractured memories mingling with her own thoughts like newly joined rivers.

I am here. I remember. And I will survive this world… one way or another.

With that silent vow, Evelyn stepped away from the ancient stone and walked deeper into the moonlit ruin, where the shadows welcomed her like an old friend.

As Evelyn stepped carefully through the broken archway of the Church of Elleh, her boots silent against the moss-covered stones. The empty plains beyond the ruin felt unsettling. In her memories, a golden sentinel had always patrolled there, its halberd gleaming under the Erdtree's glow, ever watchful and proud.

But now, there was nothing – only quiet wind stirring long grass beneath the twilight sky.

Strange… I remember a Tree Sentinel here…

She stepped deeper into the ruined church, expecting the familiar sight of Kale behind his stall. But what she saw instead made her pause mid-step.

There were merchants gathered within the church's broken walls – far more than she ever remembered. Men with tired, wary eyes sat pressed against pillars, their cloaks dusty from travel. Women clutched their packs close, holding sleeping children against their shoulders. A few older merchants with beards streaked white leaned upon carved staffs, their gazes watchful and guarded. Some looked like Kale, hooded and silent, but others were different – women with sun-kissed skin, young boys with hair dark as ravens' wings, old men with trembling lips whispering silent prayers.

Evelyn's eyes widened slightly as every gaze turned to her. Suspicion flickered across their faces, tightening their postures and darkening their eyes.

Finally, a broad-shouldered woman with silver-threaded braids stood, her voice low but edged with caution. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Why have you come here at dusk?"

Evelyn swallowed, then lowered her head respectfully, her white hair falling around her like a curtain of moonlight.

"I… I'm sorry to disturb your rest," she said softly, her voice steady despite its quietness. "I've been walking all day, and night is falling… I… I simply seek a place to sit until dawn. If it's not too much trouble."

Her eyes flicked up, meeting the woman's sharp gaze with open sincerity. The merchants around her shifted uneasily, hands tightening around daggers and staves.

"You travel alone?" a young man asked, suspicion thick in his voice.

She nodded once, her expression calm. "Yes. Alone. I mean no harm to any of you."

The woman's eyes narrowed further. "We've no desire for Golden Order spies here."

At that, Evelyn's gaze softened with understanding. She could see the fear hidden behind their suspicion – fear of exile, of burning stakes, of losing what little safety remained in these old stones.

"I promise I am not with them," she said gently. "I understand your caution. If it is too much trouble to share your shelter, I will find another place. I… don't wish to bring you discomfort or danger."

Her words hung in the silent, lantern-lit ruin. A few merchants glanced at each other, surprised at her quiet composure and gentle tone.

At last, Kale stepped forward from behind his stall. He studied her silently, gaze lingering on her simple cloak and the dust on her boots.

"You carry no sigils of gold," he said, his deep voice calm. "And your eyes hold no deceit."

Evelyn offered a small, grateful smile. "Thank you… truly."

The silver-braided woman scoffed softly, but she sat back down, her shoulders relaxing slightly. The others turned their gazes away, though suspicion still flickered among them like wary embers.

Kale nodded towards a quiet space near a broken pillar. "Rest there. The winds will not reach you tonight."

She bowed her head deeply in thanks before walking lightly to the corner. Pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she sat cross-legged upon the cold stone floor, letting her long hair fall forward as she closed her eyes and exhaled a slow, trembling breath.

This world… it feels familiar, and yet so different… Why are there so many merchants here…?

She curled her fingers gently around a loose stone beside her, feeling the ancient, silent heartbeat of the land through it.

But… for now… rest.

Outside, the final light of twilight faded, and the stars awakened one by one, casting silver blessings over the hushed plains of Limgrave.