The An0maly

As dawn's pale fingers brushed the crumbled arches of the Church of Elleh, the merchants moved with silent urgency. Shadows still clung to the ruined stones, veiling them in hushed twilight as they packed their wares with tired, practised motions.

Evelyn stood at the edge of their bustle, her moon-pale hair stirring softly in the cool breeze. For a moment, she simply watched – the quiet dignity of their labour, the wordless way hands passed rope and cloth, the murmured reminders to check each bundle twice. She felt a pang in her chest, an ache of unspoken memory.

They remind me… of something long lost… something deeply human.

She stepped forward. Her bare feet made no sound upon the mossy stone, yet the merchants still turned to watch her approach with cautious, bleary eyes.

An older woman struggled to lift a tightly bound pack onto her thin shoulders. She trembled under its weight, her knees nearly giving out before a tall, silent man caught her by the elbow. Even so, the burden remained unbalanced, swaying precariously.

Evelyn moved to her side without a word. She gently pressed a hand against the heavy pack and lifted it as if it weighed nothing, guiding the straps into place upon the woman's bony shoulders.

"Let me help you," she whispered softly, her glintstone-lit eyes glowing with quiet warmth in the pre-dawn gloom.

The woman flinched at first, startled by Evelyn's unearthly presence, but then her gaze softened as she saw the kindness shimmering there. She lowered her head with trembling gratitude.

"Thank you… thank you, Tarnished one…"

Evelyn paused, her lips curving faintly.

"Not Tarnished… but I will accept your thanks all the same," she said gently, adjusting the straps so they sat comfortably. "Tell me if this bites your shoulders."

She moved on to help an elderly merchant tighten the ropes binding his rattling bundle of bronze pots. With deft fingers, she tugged the knots firm, testing their hold before giving a small nod of approval.

Nearby, a boy dropped his small crate of dried herbs, scattering brittle stems across the mossy stones. He fell to his knees with a choked sob, trembling fingers reaching for each broken sprig as tears welled in his wide eyes.

Evelyn knelt beside him without a word, her moon-pale hair pooling around her shoulders like soft riverlight. She reached out and began gathering the scattered herbs one by one, her touch gentle and careful. Some stems were crushed underfoot, their fragrance sharp with bruised life.

As her fingers brushed over the wilted sprigs, something subtle stirred within her. A faint warmth bloomed beneath her skin, and before the boy's tear-bright gaze, the bent stems straightened. Their pale green deepened once more, the torn leaves mending along invisible seams. Each herb she gathered seemed to regain its quiet vitality, as if kissed by morning dew after a long drought.

Evelyn blinked, sensing what had happened, but chose to say nothing. She simply smiled softly and handed the small bundle back to the boy.

"Here," she whispered, her glintstone-lit eyes warm with kindness. "Nothing lost, little one."

The boy stared at the herbs, then up at her, wonder and relief glowing upon his dirt-smudged face.

"Thank you…" he breathed, his voice trembling with quiet awe.

She reached out and ruffled his dark hair lightly, her touch warm and calming.

As she finished helping, Evelyn wiped sweat from her brow, brushing a stray lock of moonlit hair behind her ear as dawn's pale glow filtered through the broken arches. She exhaled softly, fingers tightening around the rough rope of the merchant's pack she secured.

I can't believe I'm here…

The thought rippled through her mind like distant thunder across still water. Her gaze drifted out over Limgrave's rolling hills, painted gold by the rising sun. There was something achingly familiar in the wind that tugged at her cloak, the hush of morning cicadas singing in the quiet plains.

This place… it was a game… wasn't it…?

Memories flickered like dying candlelight. A darkened room. Fingers wrapped around a controller. The flicker of a screen displaying "ELDEN RING." She remembered choosing a male Tarnished, shaping his scarred face with weary eyes, giving him a sword and shield. She remembered stepping out from the Chapel of Anticipation, seeing the Erdtree's impossible brilliance looming across shattered cliffs, feeling her chest tighten with wonder.

But now… now the dawn breeze kissed her skin with chill dew. Now the weight of leather packs burned against her shoulders. Now the grass beneath her knees was damp with life.

Why… why do I remember playing this… and yet…

She thought of last night. Touching the broken pillar in the Church of Elleh. The sudden flood of memory – names, scents, the soft roar of wind through the high cliffs, the clang of distant steel, the call of eagles above Stormgate.

And yet… the more I try to remember beyond Limgrave… the foggier it becomes…

Her brow furrowed, unease coiling within her chest.

Why did touching this place… unlock so much more of these memories…?

A faint chill pulsed through her cloak, like ripples across a dark lake. Then warmth followed, and with it came the Void's voice – ragged, layered upon itself like endless echoes across a hollow universe:

"Light… this is insight."

Her breath caught. The word settled into her chest like a cold, heavy stone.

"What… what do you mean…?" she whispered in her thoughts.

The Void's voice deepened, thrumming through her bones:

"Insight… is the awakening of perception. It is not merely memory… nor knowledge… nor faith. It is the ability to see things as they truly are… to pierce the comforting illusions of the world. Each place you reach… each step upon a land's ancient scars… unravels another veil… and grants you deeper sight."

Evelyn's pulse quickened as fragments of the concept settled within her mind. Insight…

"To gain insight," the Void whispered, "is to lose ignorance. It is to trade away safety for truth. The more you see… the more you will truly see. And with sight… comes understanding. And with understanding… comes sorrow."

Her chest tightened as she looked around the ruined church. The merchants packing their cracked pottery. The cracked stone beneath her knees. The faint glow of the Erdtree illuminating dew-soaked plains.

So… with each place I reach… each memory I awaken… I gain Insight into this world. I see its true shape… its hidden wounds…

She closed her eyes, a soft shiver rippling down her spine.

Do I truly want to see it all…?

A hush fell then. She realised the merchants had gone silent, fear rippling through their ranks like grass bending before a storm.

And then she heard it:

The thud… thud… thud… of massive hooves striking the earth. The deep clink of gilded plate upon plate. Each step like a silent tolling bell. The morning air itself seemed to tremble as a golden shadow approached from beyond the broken walls of the church.

Fear rippled through the gathered merchants like wind through tall grass. Their hurried packing had halted completely. Crates sat half-filled, satchels lay open, and bundles of wrapped herbs trembled in shaking hands as the heavy thud of armoured hooves drew nearer.

"He's coming this way," whispered a thin man with hollow cheeks, clutching his daughter to his chest. "The Tree Sentinel… he'll see us for certain."

"We should flee north, to Liurnia," hissed an older woman, her silver-threaded braids trembling as she rolled up her sleeping furs. "If we move quickly, we can reach the lakes before dusk."

"And if he rides us down?" snapped another merchant, his eyes wild. "We'll die before even seeing the marshes."

"Then… then we beg for mercy," someone else whispered, their voice trembling. "If we kneel… if we show we carry no arms… perhaps he will spare the children."

At that, a heavy silence fell. Mothers tightened their grip around their little ones. Fathers clenched their jaws as if to swallow down their terror. Even the boy Evelyn had helped earlier now clung to his mother's cloak, his dark eyes wide and glistening.

The echoing hoofbeats drew closer, each one rattling the old stones beneath their feet. The warhorse's snort carried through the morning mist, heavy and resonant with grim finality.

Evelyn rose slowly, her dark cloak pooling like silent water around her ankles. Her golden eyes gleamed with a faint glintstone light as she watched the merchants, each face twisted in terror and hopeless indecision.

"No," she said, her voice low but threaded with iron.

They turned to her, startled.

"You must flee. All of you. Quietly, towards Liurnia. Do not waste this chance to live."

The woman with the silver braids shook her head frantically. "But he'll see us—"

"I will make sure he doesn't," Evelyn replied, her tone like a blade's edge.

The merchants fell silent again. Only the muffled weeping of a frightened child rose between them.

"Why… why would you do this for us?" asked Kale, his voice rough with disbelief.

Evelyn drew in a slow breath, her gaze unwavering as she lifted her hood over her white hair, shadowing her softly glowing, glintstone-light eyes. The faintest smile curved her lips, calm and resolute.

"Because… if someone is in danger… if someone is crying out for help… then saving them is the right thing to do. That's all there is to it."

Her words rang quiet and clear, unburdened by doubt or self-regard – spoken with the purity of one who would rather break herself upon the altar of her ideals than abandon them.

She turned away from their stunned faces, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. As the heavy silhouette of the Tree Sentinel emerged between the ruined arches beyond the courtyard, its golden halberd glinting in the newborn light, Evelyn stepped forward.

Her shadow pooled at her feet, flickering faintly as her heart beat slow and steady in her chest.

"Go," she whispered, her voice soft but carrying. "While his eyes are on me."

And behind her, the merchants watched with tears and dread in their eyes as the angel-like woman strode calmly towards doom, her cloak billowing like dark wings in the dawn breeze.

The heavy clang of iron-shod hooves drew closer, echoing across the crumbled courtyard like a grim war drum. The warhorse's breath came in hissing snorts, its plated head tossing as it emerged from the mists of dawn.

The Tree Sentinel rode tall upon its back, golden armour gleaming like a newborn sun. His massive halberd rested across his lap, each slow sway of its blade humming with silent promise of death. The blank steel of his helm regarded the ruin before him with cold, imperious judgement.

Evelyn stepped forward.

Her bare feet crunched softly upon the scattered gravel as she emerged from the broken archway of the Church of Elleh. Shadows curled around her ankles, her dark cloak trailing behind like an obsidian tide. The rising sun struck her hair, painting it with pale silver light, and her eyes shone with that faint glintstone glow – eerie, serene, and utterly unafraid.

The Tree Sentinel reined his horse to a halt. For a moment, silence reigned between them, broken only by the distant cries of waking birds. The horse snorted, its plated head lowering as the knight regarded Evelyn with unreadable scrutiny.

"Halt," his voice boomed, deep and resonant like a funeral bell across the plains. "Tarnished, step aside. This matter is not thine to meddle in."

Evelyn tilted her head slightly, her golden eyes soft with sorrow rather than fear.

"Please," she said gently, her voice carrying across the silent courtyard like the first breeze of dawn, "there is no need for this. They are only merchants… families… children. They mean no harm to you, nor to your Golden Order."

The Tree Sentinel shifted in his saddle, the great warhorse stamping its hooves upon the cracked stone with impatience. For a brief moment, there was silence as he studied her.

"No grace flickers upon thee," he rumbled, his tone cold and disgusted. "Yet thou standest against ordained judgement. Tarnished thou art, and tarnished thou shalt remain – an exile bereft of purpose, seeking false virtue to mask thy accursed state."

Evelyn lowered her gaze, her hair falling in pale silver strands to frame her glowing eyes. The morning light glimmered upon the tears that threatened at her lashes, though her voice remained steady and quiet.

"If refusing to let innocents die makes me unworthy… then I will accept your scorn. But… please… I beg you… there is no righteousness in slaying the helpless."

The Tree Sentinel straightened in his saddle. His halberd rose with regal finality, its blade catching the dawn in a blinding arc.

"Thou wouldst plead for vermin? Thy pity is wasted. They consort with heresy. Step aside, or I shall cleave thee in twain before smiting them in turn."

Evelyn took a slow breath, feeling the cool morning wind brush against her cheeks. She raised her chin, golden eyes calm and resolute.

"Then you will have to strike me down first," she whispered softly, sadness and determination interwoven in her words like threads of silver and shadow. "I will not move. They deserve a chance to live."

The horse reared, plated hooves flashing in the rising sun, and with a roar of steel and thunder, the knight charged forward.

And Evelyn stood her ground, heart pounding with sorrowful certainty – that if this was her end, it would be as a shield against the cruelty of a golden dawn.

Evelyn stood her ground, blue glintstone eyes shimmering with sorrow and unbreakable resolve.

"Then you will have to strike me down first," she whispered, voice trembling but firm.

The Tree Sentinel let out a muffled growl within his helm, spurring his warhorse forward with a metallic snarl of plated hooves. As the knight thundered towards her, halberd raised in final judgement, a sudden chill pooled in Evelyn's chest.

Light… let me bear this…

The words coiled through her mind like velvet shadows. She gasped softly as darkness bloomed within her heart, pressing against her senses with gentle insistence.

Allow me… let my will shape this moment…

Her vision blurred. The world twisted.

Her blue glintstone irises shifted, blooming into a deep red-wine hue flickering with hidden silver. A heavy aura of ancient, oppressive dread unfurled around her, thickening the air. Even the warhorse hesitated mid-charge, tossing its head in instinctive terror.

The Void moved through her limbs.

With silent, impossible grace, Evelyn flickered aside as the halberd cleaved the earth where she stood. Shadows pooled and wove into a curved blade at her hand. She appeared behind the knight in an instant, slashing across his backplate, weakening the centuries-old golden steel. He roared, swinging again, but she blurred to his side, palm raised. Chains of ghost-darkness lashed out, binding his arms and tearing the weapon from his grip.

The warhorse reared, screaming in panic. The knight struggled, now unarmed and half-bound, gasping beneath his helm as Evelyn raised her palm towards his chest, shadows swirling with flickering black and white flame – the black flame of humanity, unmaking and remaking life itself.

But in that instant – as the Void prepared to finish him – Evelyn's consciousness surged back up through the abyss. Her awareness rose like a drowning soul breaking the surface. Her vision cleared. Her eyes flickered from deep red-wine back to luminous blue glintstone.

And she saw him.

She saw him. The knight, writhing in agony, his screams hoarse and broken as charred flesh split beneath his scorched golden plate. His pain, his terror, the knowledge that death had come and there was no dignity left to grasp.

Something inside her snapped.

"No… no… stop… stop… please…!" she sobbed aloud, her voice cracking under the weight of her own horror and grief.

"What have you done…" she sobbed aloud, her voice cracking under the weight of her horror and grief.

Evelyn fell to her knees, trembling hands reaching out towards the scorched knight. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she pressed her palms against his blackened chestplate, her breath hitching with ragged, desperate gasps.

"No… no… please… I didn't want this… I didn't want this…"

She tried to will the shadows back, to reverse their withering touch. Darkness flickered feebly across her fingers, curling against the twisted metal like remorseful smoke – but it brought no healing. His burned flesh remained seared and torn beneath the crumpled gold, his pained gasps fading into hoarse, choking sobs.

"Please…" she whispered, voice shaking with raw anguish. "I don't want to take… I don't want to destroy… please… let me fix it… let me fix it…!"

Her tears fell onto his scorched armour, mingling with soot and blood. She pressed her forehead to his chest, her white hair tumbling down like moonlit veils around them both. Sorrow burned in her throat so fiercely it felt as though her very soul was splintering.

"I don't want to hurt… I just… I just want to help…"

In that final, broken confession, something deep within her shifted. She felt it bloom in the dark pit of her chest – a warmth so profound it almost hurt. A radiant presence, older than words, older even than darkness itself. It rose up through her trembling arms and bloomed beneath her palms, a gentle golden-white glow flickering into existence.

At first it was faint – no brighter than a candle flame – but then it surged, washing over the knight's ravaged body in rippling waves of luminous warmth. Where the light touched, charred flesh knit together, torn sinew reformed, cracked bones rejoined with silken ease. The scorched, crumpled gold of his armour melted and reshaped, each dent smoothing into elegant curves, each blackened rivet restored to polished brilliance.

She felt the healing not as an exertion but as an act of breathing – as natural as life itself. The light flowing from her was not Grace nor sorcery, but something more primordial: the Spark of Creation and Life, gifted to her by the Void's unknowable depths.

The knight's pained screams turned to choked sobs, and then to ragged, stunned breaths before unconsciousness claimed him, his form slumping against his warhorse's neck.

Evelyn drew her trembling hands back. The healing light faded into the quiet dawn mist, leaving only the faint shimmer of her glintstone blue eyes reflecting the ruined church's pale morning gloom.

What… what am I becoming…?

Before her knelt the Tree Sentinel, fully healed, his golden armour gleaming in the soft, rising sun – stronger and more beautiful than before, a silent testament to the mercy of a girl who once thought herself only human.

And in the hush that followed, the Void curled around her weary heart, its whisper a silent embrace woven from sorrow, pride, and the aching tenderness of something unnamable.