Chereads / Elden Ring: Tarnished Flame Vyke / Chapter 16 - Chapter 16 Giving scary knife wife Name

Chapter 16 - Chapter 16 Giving scary knife wife Name

He paused, meeting her gaze. He could see the reluctance, he took a careful step closer.

"You don't have to stay here," he said gently. "There's more out there than these walls, more than this endless watch over something that may no longer need protecting."

She looked away, her jaw tense, fingers clutching the edge of her cloak. "This is my duty," she replied, voice low, almost as if convincing herself. "I was bound to guard the Deathroot. I cannot simply… leave it."

He knelt down to meet her gaze directly, his eyes unwavering. "You're not bound to this place. If you need to keep protecting the Deathroot, there are others out there. I know location of another one, away from here." He let his words sink in, watching her carefully. "You could take this one with you, guard both if you have to, but not alone in this prison."

She blinked, his words stirring something within her, an idea she hadn't dared consider before. Her life had revolved around this endless watch, guarding this singular place. Leaving it had always seemed like a betrayal, but the thought of expanding her duty, of guarding not just here but out there… it held a strange appeal, a strange freedom.

"And you," she asked, her voice softer now, nearly a whisper, "you would know the way?"

He nodded, his expression calm but insistent. "Yes. I can take you there. You wouldn't be abandoning your duty—you'd only be expanding it. This could be a new path for you… if you choose it."

For a moment, she was silent, studying him, as though trying to understand his motives. Her fingers relaxed slightly from the edge of her cloak, and she nodded slowly, hesitant but determined.

"Very well," she murmured, her voice steadying. "I will go with you… but I will carry both."

He gave a slight smile, respectful and understanding. "Then let's go. Together."

As they stepped out of the darkened catacombs, she squinted, almost startled by the dim light filtering through the dense fog.

She paused, breathing in the cool air—a scent unfamiliar yet strangely comforting after centuries in isolation. Her hand brushed the stone wall beside her, steadying herself as she took it all in.

The world outside felt vast, the open space almost unsettling, but she held her ground, her resolve firm.

Seeing her struggle, he took a step closer, keeping his tone calm. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

She gave a brief nod, saying nothing, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. Every step outside felt both liberating and daunting, a reminder of how long she'd been cut off from everything beyond her watch.

Her injuries, too, made the journey slow, each movement stiff and painful.

He gestured to his horse waiting nearby. "If you'd rather not walk, you can ride with me. The way to Summonwater Village will be easier."

She hesitated, her pride warring with practicality, but eventually nodded, accepting his offer. He helped her onto the horse, careful not to jar her wounded shoulder. As he mounted in front of her, she steadied herself by holding onto him.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"My name? Black Knife Assassin," she replied, her voice cold.

He glanced over his shoulder, his expression softening slightly as he guided the horse through the thickening mist toward Summonwater Village.

"I didn't mean your title," he clarified gently. "Everyone has a name beyond the one given by duty. What were you called before all this?"

She was silent for a long moment, the sound of the horse's hooves echoing in the quiet air. Her gaze was distant, like she was searching for something lost in the past.

"My real name..." She hesitated, her voice low. "I don't remember it. It's been... so long." She paused, the words seeming to weigh heavily on her. "I was trained to forget it. To become the Black Knife Assassin. The name doesn't matter anymore."

He slowed the horse as they neared the village, studying her expression. "It does matter," he said quietly. "If you want it to. You're not just your title. There's more to you than the assassin you were made to be."

She looked at him then, her eyes sharp but weary, as if she was considering his words for the first time. "You don't understand," she murmured. "To show weakness... it's dangerous. Names are power. Without one, I've been nothing but a weapon."

He didn't push her. Instead, he simply nodded. "You don't have to be a weapon anymore."

There was a long, tense silence between them, the only sound the faint rustling of the trees ahead. Then, she spoke again, her voice quieter.

"Maybe I used to have a name," she said, almost as if testing the words on her tongue. "Maybe I'll remember it one day."

"maybe."

When they reached the outskirts of the village, he guided the horse to a slow stop, letting the mist swirl around them. The village seemed peaceful at first glance.

"You know," he began, his tone calm, "sometimes, the world gives us names, but it's the people we meet that help us remember who we really are. Maybe you don't remember yours yet, but you're more than just the assassin. You're someone who deserves more than what you've been made to believe."

She didn't say anything at first, just looked away, her thoughts distant again. 

He exhaled, his voice softer now. "I think... I think I'll give you a name."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

He smiled, but it was a kind, genuine one. "Not because you've forgotten it, but because I think you need one. A new start, a new beginning." He paused for a moment, his eyes thoughtful. "How about... Nyra?"

"Nyra?"

He nodded. "It's simple, but strong. It means 'light' in an old tongue. You've been surrounded by darkness for so long, guarding the Deathroot, living in the shadows. But now... now you have a chance to find something new. Something for yourself."

She was quiet for a long time, the only sound between them the soft wind rustling the leaves. Slowly, she looked down at her hands, then back at him.

"Nyra…" she repeated quietly, as if the name felt unfamiliar, yet oddly right. "It's... different."

He gave a small, encouraging smile. "I know it's different. But maybe that's a good thing."

"Nyra," she said again "It's... it's something I'll try to remember."