The An0maly

Evelyn sat upon a broken pillar within the Church of Elleh, her cloak draped around her like pooled midnight. The knight lay nearby upon a bed of bundled sleeping furs, his battered armour now mended and gleaming softly under the flickering lantern light. His breath came in ragged, uneven pulls, but life had returned to him – fragile, flickering, yet stubbornly clinging on.

The merchants gathered in a loose half-circle, their faces illuminated by dawn's pale glow creeping through the ruined arches. Kale stood closest to her, arms folded across his chest, his thoughtful eyes locked onto the unconscious Tree Sentinel.

"You should have left him to die," said one merchant bitterly, his voice taut with lingering fear. "He would have killed us all without a word."

Evelyn shook her head, brushing a strand of moon-pale hair from her face as her glintstone-hued eyes softened. "If he had died here by my hand… things would have become far worse for all of you. The Golden Order would not let his death go unpunished."

A hush settled over them at her words. Only the quiet rasp of the knight's breathing and the shifting of sleeping children disturbed the dawn silence.

Kale's gaze lingered on her, searching. "What will you do with him when he wakes?"

"Talk to him," she answered softly, her eyes fixed on the golden-plated warrior. "Try to make him see reason. He still sees me as a Tarnished, and all of you as traitors… but perhaps…" Her voice trailed off with a quiet ache. "Perhaps he will listen now."

The older woman with silver-threaded braids clenched her shawl around her shoulders, her voice trembling as she spoke. "If he reports us to Leyndell, they will send others… stronger ones… not even you could fight them, child."

Evelyn's gaze darkened with quiet resolve. "Then you must flee. Head north, to Liurnia. Find safety beyond the marshes. The Golden Order's reach grows thin beyond these plains."

The merchants shifted, uneasy. One of the younger men, his hair tied back with a strip of dyed cloth, swallowed hard. "And what of you? What will you do, Lady Evelyn?"

She paused, staring down at her trembling hands – hands that had burned and healed in the span of moments. She flexed her fingers slowly, feeling the lingering sting of the Void's rage coiled within her bones.

"I will remain," she said at last, her voice low but steady as iron. "If he wakes and chooses to fight… then I will not run. But if he wakes and chooses mercy… perhaps he will remember that kindness exists in these lands still."

Kale exhaled, a tired sound edged with respect. "You are… unlike any we have met, Evelyn. May your gods watch over you."

Evelyn turned her eyes to him then, their glintstone glow deepening with distant sadness. "I have no gods, Kale… only choices."

She rose slowly, her cloak sweeping across the cold stone floor as she approached the sleeping knight. Kneeling beside him, she brushed her fingertips lightly against his gauntleted hand – a silent promise of protection, even for an enemy.

Outside, the dawn wind rose, rattling the lantern chains as the merchants began their quiet preparations to depart, their footfalls hushed by ancient stone. And within the dim sanctuary of the Church of Elleh, Evelyn kept her silent vigil, her heart beating with fear, hope, and an unbreakable resolve.

[Time Skip]

The merchants' final footsteps faded into the dawn mist, leaving the Church of Elleh silent once more. Only the quiet flutter of Evelyn's cloak filled the empty space as she knelt beside the slumbering knight. His breath rasped faintly through his helm's battered grill, chest rising and falling beneath the repaired golden plate.

She sat back on her heels, folding her trembling hands upon her lap. The cool stone pressed into her knees, grounding her as her eyes – pale as glintstone in the dim lantern glow – flicked upwards to the shattered arches above, where thin beams of morning light streamed through drifting motes of dust.

"Void…?" she whispered softly, her voice carrying only to the silent shadows around her.

The cloak coiled languidly around her shoulders in reply, its darkness pulsing with faint warmth against her back. Its voice unfurled into her thoughts, hollow and ancient, like wind sighing through sunken catacombs.

…Light… you call upon me…

She closed her eyes, the word striking something deep and foreign within her chest. A distant grief, but no memory to anchor it.

"Stop calling me that," she said quietly, her voice trembling with quiet insistence. "I… I don't know who she was… but she's gone. My name is Evelyn. I'm… I'm just a human. Nothing more."

The Void fell silent for a moment. Its presence rippled softly, like an unseen tide receding over black sands.

…Evelyn… it murmured finally, tasting the name in its hollow echo. …Then speak, Evelyn…

She inhaled shakily, staring down at her hands – the same hands that had torn apart armour and flesh with the Void's unbound fury… then moments later had woven that broken body whole again.

"I want to ask you something…" she murmured, her voice fragile despite her resolve. "Is it… is it wrong… to take another's life… if they tried to take yours first?"

Silence followed. She felt the Void shift within her, wrapping itself tighter around her spine, coiling cold and deep through her chest like quiet moonlit water.

…Wrong… right… such words are threads woven by fleeting mortals to bind their fear of death…

Its tone was soft, almost thoughtful, echoing within her mind like distant bells tolling in a sunken temple.

…To take life is to claim power. To spare life is to claim power. Each choice shapes you, Evelyn… carves your being from the clay of eternity…

She closed her eyes, tears pricking at her lashes. "Then… there is no right choice… only choice itself…"

The Void pulsed gently, like a heart beating in endless darkness.

…There is no balance in survival. Only weight… and consequence…

She exhaled shakily, her fingers curling against her palms.

"I just… I don't want to become someone who kills without thinking… without feeling it… I…"

The Void whispered, softer now, like a lullaby of distant stars fading beyond a forgotten horizon.

…Then do not. Feel it. Bear it. That is the only truth of wielding power… Evelyn…

Her name upon its hollow voice filled her chest with a bittersweet ache. She opened her eyes, shimmering with quiet sorrow, and gazed upon the knight's sleeping face hidden behind his helm. Gently, she reached out and touched the edge of his gauntlet.

"Thank you… Void. For… understanding."

Its presence coiled around her heart with something like silent acceptance – neither warm nor cold, but eternal.

[Tree Sentinel POV]

Silence.

That was the first thing he heard as awareness returned – not the clink of armour, nor his warhorse's snorting breath, nor the distant chanting of Grace-given priests. Only silence, deep and strangely soft.

Then came sensation: cool stone beneath his back, the faint whisper of morning breeze brushing across the raw skin beneath his helm's cracked visor.

He tensed, bracing for agony – the burned flesh, the shattered ribs, the searing pain. But there was nothing. No pain. No injury.

Only… memory.

The shadows. The flame that burned black and white. The creature with eyes like dark wine who moved like falling night. And then… mercy.

I should be dead…

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes. The ruined arches of the Church of Elleh came into view: moss-covered stone, shafts of dawnlight cutting through broken walls. And there, sitting cross-legged beside him, was the woman.

She seemed small in her stillness. Her pale hair fell around her like moonlit silk, framing a weary face. Her cloak pooled in quiet darkness around her ankles. Yet her eyes… they glowed with a soft glintstone-blue light, calm and almost sorrowful.

Phantom pain flickered through his memory – not his body – and he flinched, feeling agony that was no longer there. He shifted, bracing himself. Strong. Whole. His limbs obeyed him without protest. Even his armour felt different – lighter, newly forged, gleaming gold unmarred by soot or blood.

His heart thundered within his chest.

"…Why…?" His voice rasped out, hoarse and disbelieving. "…Why spare me…?"

She turned her gaze upon him. There was no triumph there. No cruelty. Only quiet exhaustion, and a gentle sadness.

Pity…? No… compassion…

"Because…" her voice was soft, carrying like a whispered prayer in the silent ruin, "…there has been enough death already."

He swallowed hard, confusion tightening his chest. Enough death? Does she pity me… or does she mock me…?

"What… are you…?" he whispered, unable to keep the tremor from his voice.

She tilted her head, and her hair shifted like drifting ash. Her luminous eyes dimmed slightly as she answered, her words quiet and strangely humble:

"Just… a human. My name is Evelyn."

He blinked, stunned. A… what…?

"Human…?" he repeated the word, tasting its unfamiliar shape on his tongue. There was no place in the Golden Order's creed for such a term. Tarnished, Grace-given, omen-born, demi-god, empyrean, misbegotten… but human?

"I… I do not know that word…" he whispered.

She lowered her gaze, folding her hands in her lap as her hair curtained her glowing eyes. "It is… what I am. It is what I was… before all this."

He searched her face, fear and confusion twisting in his chest. Before… this…? What is she saying…?

He looked down at his healed hands, fingers flexing against his newly restored gauntlets. There was no pain. No weakness. His armour gleamed as if reforged by smiths beyond Leyndell's forges. He felt strong. Steady. Whole.

But shame burned hotter than any wound he had suffered.

"I… don't understand…" he breathed.

She shook her head faintly. "You don't need to. Just know… you're alive. You're free to choose what you do next. I will not harm you again."

Alive.

Free.

He stared at her in silence, feeling something raw open within him. Confusion. Shame. And a quiet, trembling gratitude that sat uneasily within his chest.

What… what is a human… and why does she look at me with such kindness…?

Slowly, he lowered his gaze to the stone floor, his fingers curling into fists that trembled against the dawn-chilled rock.

Why do I feel so small before her…?

Outside, morning bloomed in gold and pale blue across Limgrave's plains. And for the first time since he took his oath, the Tree Sentinel felt the tightness of something unfamiliar in his chest:

Doubt.

[Evelyn POV]

As she rose to her feet in a single graceful motion, her dark cloak pooling like twilight around her ankles. She gazed down at him, eyes glowing with quiet resolve.

"There is a name whispered among them. Shabriri. They feared him, or his words."

His brow furrowed beneath his helm. "Shabriri…? That name… I do not know it."

'Of course you wouldn't know, in the game, Shabriri managed to fool Marika and her Golden order, and when they found out the truth, they didn't do anything, because the merchants have been forced to fall into madness'.

'Maybe if i spread the word, Shabriri will be found out sooner rather than later'

 She nodded slowly, strands of her silver hair drifting across her glowing eyes.

"Then your task is simple: learn who he is. Discreetly. Listen, observe, and uncover truth. That is all I ask of you to repay the life you owe."

The knight swallowed hard. The woman before him radiated an alien calm, neither Golden Order nor Tarnished nor anything he could name.

"…You… would send me to spy…?" he asked, his voice trembling.

She shook her head softly. "I would ask you to seek truth. For your Order. For yourself. For the lives of those you would judge."

His chest constricted around something he could not name – an emotion that felt like shame and hope mingled.

"…I… will do as you ask…" he whispered, lowering his gaze. 

" Miss...?"

"... Evelyn ..."

"Thank you."

And as the knight bowed his head in silent oath, something small and potent sprouted within him:

Doubt.

Not of his faith, but of those who wielded it.