Share them with me.
I lose my semblance of self, empty thoughts of my mind overtaking each and every sense, until I'm thrust into a darkness that is complete.
I see the void, I feel and taste space. I hear a vacuum, I smell desolation. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was dead. But I know where I am, I've been here before. When was it last? It must have been when I first got to this new world.
Your thoughts, your ambitions, the principles you would follow.
It's when I first saw the strange golden flame, it was the only source of light in this darkness. That familiar golden flame with particles revolving around it like the rings of a distant planet. I heard a voice then; I hear a different one now. Unlike last time, I know whose voice it is this time.
Melina.
Like a code being entered into a program, my mention of her name makes the darkness around me shift like ripples in an ocean. A speck of gold, an aura, glowing as if it were an ember, floats by, twinkling like a star. It's joined by others, which join one after another next to me. I watch the magic, taking notice once the particles begin to take shape. They swirl about the figure, falling in like satellites losing the war on gravity; until all have entered, and Melina shifts into existence.
She opens her one eye, taking in her surroundings. When she notices me, she cranes her neck up to look me in the eyes. She doesn't open her mouth, but I hear her voice.
So, this is your mind?
I look out amongst the black, feeling a little embarrassed. There doesn't seem to be a floor, we're simply standing on nothing. I can't speak, so I follow Melina's lead.
I'm not an airhead, I swear.
She cracks a small smile; I don't know if I'm imagining the humor in her voice or not.
Worry not Lance, any mind is an empty void unless its owner uses it. If we were at the base of your brain, it would be quite chaotic. But here, this is your mind, your soul. You control this realm; it is where everything you think and perceive pass through.
She stares out into the darkness.
This is where we can find your runes. It is here we can find what decisions you wish to make regarding your strength.
My strength?
She nods, and points.
Look there.
I stare out into the void; it's so disorienting that I end up staring at the wrong place.
I don't-
Something catches my gaze, and I dip my head down toward it. Beneath us, more golden embers swirl about, moving as if they were fireflies. Hundreds of them, following one another like schools of fish. I get no sense of depth perception; I can't tell whether they're just beneath me, or a thousand feet down.
Those are your runes, nearly all of them dwelled within your captor. They are yours now, not one has any memory of your involvement with their most recent transfer.
Makes sense, I think.
I feel a pang of guilt, thinking about the guard that I killed. Like it was answering my thoughts, the space below the runes ignites with light.
Woah.
You have evoked a memory.
It's like a bird's eye view of my life, everything just as I remembered it, at an angle I would never imagine. I see my cell, I see me, crouched over a dying soldier. I can get a full view of the wound I was given, it's a hideous cut. The skin about it deep purple, crimson blood mixed with bacteria green within the wound. The fuzz of mold grows in some parts, parts of my bones can be seen in others. If I were in my body, I'd probably gag. The view lets me know just how close to death's door I was, I honestly have no clue how I was able to live, let alone fight back, with a wound like that. I'm not even considering the other injuries I received.
Reading my thoughts again, the scene shifts, and I suddenly find Melina and myself in the trees.
Oh, this is where…
Melina gives a small nod.
It was hard to watch the first time.
I'm running through the forest, passing by underneath my feet. One of the scouts gives chase, he clears the distance easily. I wince when I'm slashed across the back, avert my gaze when I start screaming until I'm kicked into silence. I notice another Melina, down by the forest path next to me.
Is that you?
My Melina nods, her expression vacant. The young woman drops to her knees, covering her mouth with her hands, her eye wide in shock. When I'm dragged away, the young woman reluctantly follows. She looks distraught.
It had been a long time since I saw someone attacked, and while I did not yet know you, I was mortified.
It was painful. Probably beats any other pain I've had by a large margin.
I think about that.
Is that the most painful thing I've endured? Something makes the darkness around us glitch, Melina takes notice. I don't. My thoughts go elsewhere, somewhere that feels muddy to think about.
I wonder why it didn't hurt so much the first time.
Melina breaks her gaze on the glitching void.
The first time?
It's my turn to nod.
Yeah, when I- I… What am I talking about?
The scene shifts, and I'm struck with a flow of nostalgia. We're in my home, near the ceiling. From the way the scene shifts about under us, my upstairs bedroom is nearly to our right. The lights are off, but I can still see everything clearly. Melina looks about my house, an obvious frown on her face.
What is this place? It is so clean, so pure.
It's a commonly manufactured home, bland in color and simple in design. The only thing that stood out was the weird clock my mom bought in Mexico, one made to look like the Aztec Calendar. It's hung up on the wall above the tv downstairs, sticking out like a sore thumb as always.
It's my home. Where I lived prior to finding myself in your land.
Melina stares the most at the tv and the clock, only merely glancing at the couches and carpet.
Such strange designs, what land do you come from?
Uh… Springfield, in Missouri.
It must be a land devoid of war, such a peaceful atmosphere.
I give a small grin to myself.
I guess you could say that. At least There weren't any murderous knights wandering about.
I think.
I don't know when this memory was, the windows tell me it's night. The time on the clock reads 2:24 a.m., such a random time in the early morning. Why this time? What happens? There are no calendars in the living room, I can't tell what day this memory was. I would commonly stay up at this late hour, but I don't think anything interesting ever happened at this time.
So, why are we here?
Before I can answer, my bedroom door swings open, and I come running out, a frantic and terrified look on my face. Not a second later, the whole house shudders, the ceiling inside my room caves in. Dust puffs out the doorway, the dividing wall is etched with multiple cuts, before it all explodes out, sending splinters and chunks of drywall flying through my incorporeal self. I jump, watching the scene unfold. The hell's going on? My past self, already halfway to the stairs on the catwalk, whips his head around, and stares at nothing.
His expression turns to horror, before he vaults over the railing down into the living room below.
What is this?
I furrow my brow.
I never remember this happening.
Melina seems to agree.
There is a spell over this memory, a dark spell.
She gestures to where the railing and part of the ceiling rupture from seemingly nothing, I'm only watching my frantic self bolt for the front door.
It stops us from perceiving what chases you.
Let me attempt to dispel it.
My past self makes it into the hallway, next to the staircase that leads up to the second floor. The front door is only a few feet away.
The living room becomes a mess, as couches and pillows are torn to pieces. The tv is crushed by a hulking mass, and the walls of the hallway shear away as whatever chases me forces its way into the confined space. The clock reads 2:25 before it's obliterated, my house flickers in and out of darkness as the light fixtures break one after the other.
Melina's doing something, but I'm not watching. The scene shifts, and we're outside, standing a good twenty feet above the cul-de-sac of my neighborhood. My parent's house looks a mess, namely the gaping hole in its back left roof. A fire seems to have started in my room, its bright orange flames peeking out over the ridge of the rooftop.
A golden circle of light around Melina disperses with a flash, I only partly notice it happen.
The spell should be broken, this memory is altered no longer.
As soon as she's done talking, the front door swings open.
I come stumbling out.
In a speed that looks almost uncanny, my chest bursts open before I can even take a step outside.
A blade, as long as I am tall, skewers me like a fish on a harpoon.
I'm thrust into the air as fast as a mousetrap, becoming partially illuminated by the moonlight.
At the base of the handle, a diseased and spindly arm protrudes out of my home's front door, connecting to something still unseen within its plaster confines.
Dear God.
Melina is tense next to me, as we both watch the front of the house crumble away. Debris bounce onto the front lawn, scatter across the driveways. My mother's tulips are colored crimson red, my favorite windchime falls in a muffled crash.
In the moonlight, a hulking abomination stalks out, trampling the tulips and pottery.
I've gone limp, flailing about still stuck on the sword. The monster stops once it reaches the cul-de-sac, standing almost in arm's reach beneath me. It studies my dead body on its blade, before whipping the sword out.
I slide off, and my corpse is tossed into my neighbor's backyard, slamming into their tree with a bone chilling snap.
The monster lets out a screaming roar, and the memory fades away.
No new memory comes, I've gone into shock.
A Scion.
Melina seems to hiss to herself.
One of Godrick the Grafted's creations.
She looks my way when I say nothing, she winces at something she sees on my face.
…Lance?
I lose track of how long we spend in the void, it feels like days, but also seconds at the same time. I can't tell, nor do I care to.
I'm in a fetal position, staring into the great beyond with a dead expression. Melina is kneeling patiently next to me; she seems to be tracing shapes into the unseen floor.
Melina.
I say her name for the first time since meeting her. She perks up, but doesn't look at me.
Yes?
What did we see?
What happened to me?
She looks about, as if remnants of the memory are still around.
I am not quite sure. I heard that the Tarnished are warriors that die before they are brought back by Grace. I know not why a spell was cast over your death, but whoever cast it did not want you to know.
I shake my head; I might laugh if I had the gall.
I'm no Tarnished.
I'm not some warrior brought back from the dead. I'm just a kid, some snob from the suburbs of Springfield.
Melina goes back to tracing shapes, her finger going around and around like she's drawing a swirl.
Grace calls to all, not every Tarnished wants to claim the Elden Ring.
I might be one of them then, I don't want the Elden Ring.
Melina grimaces. I know what my words mean.
It implies I'm backing out of the deal; means she's losing her chance to go home. It makes me mad at myself, but I'm being driven by conviction, not emotion. I watched myself die, in a way that was grotesque and violent. If that, if that thing and things like it, are what wait for me if I let Melina guide me, I'd rather spend eternity in this void. The pain my past self felt, the horror he's experienced. I don't want to throw myself into that type of hell. If I have the choice, I choose to stay here.
You should go on without me.
She bites her lip; her chin is quivering.
And do what? I have tried every root I can, exited every breach I could. There is no gap, no place to pass through the barrier.
She traces a sword and shield, before making a motion like she's furiously scribbling it out.
I need someone like you, someone I can join, so I can be taken through the barrier.
Not my problem. Find someone to just break the barrier for you.
You do not understand Lance, I have no other option.
Yes, you do, not get out of here.
I do not.
I break out of my personal hug, turning on Melina.
And why not?
It takes me until now to notice why she traces. The runes below follow her finger, etching whatever she draws in gold. After a few seconds, the drawings disperse, as the runes go to fill in the gaps in Melina's new drawings. She draws what looks to be the golden flames we are sitting around in the real world.
I can only exist in the realm of the breaches, but I am not visible. No Tarnished or resident of the Lands Between can see me. They would merely see a particle of light, nothing usual from what you see near a breach.
She starts to draw a figure; the runes fall into place in tandem. I can only guess it's me, even though it's a mere stick figure.
Lance, you are the first who can truly see me, the first I can interact with.
She gives me a little sword and draws a shield in my other hand.
In my eyes, you are a blessing sent by the Greater Will, who seems to finally acknowledge its prodigal daughter.
She finished my portrait with a large circle, large enough to easily surround me.
I know you are fearful; I am too. You were robbed of your past life, stolen away from your home. I lost my first body to fire, and I have been away from my home for so long, I can no longer remember who I once was.
Within the circle, she draws one more, shorter, stick figure with longer hair, and she makes an inverted semicircle on the right side of its face, like a sleepy eye. It took me a moment to realize she was drawing herself.
Our interests align. If you will help me, I will help you, every step of the way.
After some time, the drawing dissipates, and the runes go back to wandering about. Melina glances at me for the first time since we saw the memory, I can't tell what's going on behind that eye of hers.
Lance, my comrade, my savior, my friend. What I ask of you is no small feat, I cannot guarantee that you will survive. But if you trust in me, then I will personally see to you becoming Elden Lord.
… … …
… … …
I have one condition.
The Erdtree, the Varre, those guards, Melina. Each and every time, I feel like there's something missing. I had a feeling of deja-vu, a sense that I was there before. Something big is just within reach, and I must know the truth.
That spell, the one you said had tampered with my memory?
There is more of them, and I want them all gone.