Lucian spent the night in Sellia, choosing not to travel further under the cover of darkness.
After his battle with the town's sorcerers, the hard-won truce, and the treasure-taking that followed, dawn had nearly broken. There had been no time to sleep at all.
So he settled himself at the grace by the illusory tree, resting briefly in its blessing's embrace.
Though Lucian always kept to a good habit of sleeping when he could, missing a night or two mattered little. Grace would restore his body to full strength regardless.
He now studied the blade in his hand; the Shadow of the Stars.
The weapon's appearance was strange, its surface bearing the texture of bone. It was hard not to connect it with the Fingerslayer Blade or the Sword of Night and Flame.
Yet unlike those relics, this weapon demanded no special fate to wield. Lucian could use it even now.
He swung it lightly. The weight and balance were good.
"This weapon," he murmured, "must be the work of a master smith… and the material is no common steel. I hadn't expected Sellia to preserve such a relic of the Nox Dynasty."
Still, the blade was sealed. Its name bore the mark: [Sealed].
Its true power—the battle skill bound within—was locked away. Perhaps only within the Eternal Cities would it reveal its full nature.
For now, Lucian set the weapon aside. Without its art, it was no more than a magic-forged katana. Better to wait until he acquired Moonveil, and perhaps wield the two together in twin style.
Nearby, Melina bent over a small table, carefully redrawing Caelid's map. Lucian had asked Stella to find one for her—no longer did she need to kneel on the floor as before.
Piece by piece, Melina copied the markings from the chart taken from Jerren, transferring them to the map she and Lucian shared.
Each time they obtained a new map, she repeated this ritual: marking graces, redrawing landscapes, making the journey their own.
It gave her the feeling of truly exploring these Lands Between.
Hearing Lucian's musing about Sellia's relic, she paused, glanced up, and smiled faintly.
"The lost Eternal Cities… Nokstella, Nokron, and the Nox Dynasty itself. Such brilliant civilizations beneath the lands—they stir the heart."
"I wonder," she added, "what those false moons and false stars Stella spoke of truly look like."
Lucian recalled the game's memory of that mysterious false night sky. Even through pixels and mist, it had been beautiful.
From the Siofra River Well in Limgrave's forest, one could descend to that underground expanse. Though not to Nokron itself, the view there was unforgettable.
Every time he had gone down, the sight had stunned him.
Perhaps when he returned to Limgrave, he could take Melina to see it. Surely she would smile at such a vision.
"It must be beautiful," he agreed softly. "But no matter—whether sky above or depths below, we will see them all. Our journey will be remembered as legend in the Lands Between."
Melina tilted her head, puzzled at his mention of the sky, but then nodded gently. "Mm."
Then, as if reminded of something, she asked; "And what of Lusat—the Primeval Sorcerer? Do you intend to release him from his seal?"
When Stella had presented Lusat's Glintstone Staff, she had also revealed the truth: Lusat himself lay sealed in a hidden cave behind Sellia, guarded by Academy sorcerers.
To Melina, such a figure could surely aid Lucian's cause.
But she did not know the truth—that Lusat's body had already begun to crystallize, transforming into inert glintstone. Speech and motion were beyond him.
"No need to rush," Lucian replied. "We know where he is. Later, perhaps."
For now, he had no key to free the sorcerer, and besides, he preferred not to let Sellen learn of Lusat's location. He lacked the means to aid her research into primeval current.
If she knew too soon, she might fall back on her "traditional" method of creating sorcerer balls—efficient, but brutal.
"What concerns me more," Lucian continued, "is Sellia's Crystal Tunnel. It's overrun by the Kindred of Rot. We'll need to clear it."
That mine—the one reachable by the transport trap in Dragon-Burnt Ruins—was infamous. In the game, many players used that hidden path to reach Caelid early, snatching the Meteorite Staff and Rock Sling spell, treasures for any young mage.
Now that Sellia was his, those crystals—and all resources within—belonged to Lucian.
He would not leave them in the hands of vermin.
Before he could dwell further, Melina suggested, "Why not send the knights you've been training? You said yourself you wished to give them the Nox drakes as mounts. Let them ride into the tunnels—battle the Kindred, gain runes, and hone their strength."
Lucian thought on it, then nodded. She was right.
The knights had trained long enough. It was time to test them.
The Kindred of Rot were no mere pests. Though weaker than elite soldiers, they fought in swarms, their coordination formidable.
But that was all the more reason to pit his knights against them.
Casualties were inevitable—but knights were bred for war. Those who joined had chosen this path willingly, seeking strength through blood and rune.
With the maidens of Stormveil empowering them, they would only grow stronger through battle.
When Melina finished her map, the two lingered in quiet conversation before Lucian rose.
He left the grace at dawn, riding Torrent through the Grace behind Sellia, climbing steadily along the winding mountain road.
Then he suddenly smacked his forehead. "Ah—I forgot."
"What is it?" Melina asked, puzzled.
"Stella said the Academy contacted them. But Raya Lucaria is sealed—no messengers can leave its walls. That means they must be using some long-distance method of communication. I should've asked her what it was. If I can master such a system, managing our affairs would be far easier."
Indeed, Lucian's communication methods were crude. In Limgrave, his Stormhawks carried messages swiftly, but they could not fly to Caelid without risk of scarlet rot.
Outside his domain, his only fallback was the Furlcalling Finger Remedy, crude signals between Tarnished. A golden mark at Stormveil would summon him in emergencies, but for complex matters it was useless.
An Elden Lord-in-waiting needed something more. To rally troops, issue orders, and coordinate distant fronts required true communication.
If he could harness magical networks, with sorcerers as nodes and relays, his command would reach far and wide.
"Yes," Melina mused, "if the Academy communicates with Sellia, then such arts must exist. You should ask when next we return."
Lucian nodded and let the thought rest, guiding Torrent up the zigzagging slope.
"Lucian—look!" Melina's sudden cry drew his gaze upward.
A colossal skull jutted from the cliffside, its surface overgrown with scarlet fungus and gnarled roots sprouting from its hollow eyes.
"At first I thought it just strange rock," Melina whispered, "but it's a skull. And earlier we passed another like it… Such giants—are they real?"
Her awe made Lucian smile. Melina was changing. She laughed more, marveled more. She felt alive.
"Yes. If all giants were this size, the war against them must have been a spectacle beyond imagining. Erdtree warriors against titans…" He shook his head, half in wonder.
Their musings were cut short by a deep rumble. Something was rolling closer.
An iron ball thundered down the path, huge and smooth, crashing with the force to pulverize all before it.
Lucian swung his Swordspear, knocking it aside into the rock wall, then pressed forward.
Soon, gravestones lined the path, from which skeletons clawed their way out. Slow and shambling, they were easily outrun by Torrent's speed.
Another iron ball appeared, but this time Lucian saw its origin; a glowing white summoning circle upon the ground.
So this was the Academy's work—summoning constructs to block the way, just as he had once suffered against their sorcerer spheres.
A trap, laid to guard Lusat's prison.
At last, Lucian reached the Church of the Plague.
The scarlet rot had not yet claimed it; no Lesser Kindred infested the site. Inside, only a great statue of Marika loomed.
Millicent was not here—she must still linger in the swamp of Aeonia. Likely, O'Neil would be the first to find her.
Lucian picked up the Sacred Tear resting there, lighting the grace and placing the relic beside it.
Unlike others, this tear was untouched by decay. Even lying amidst the rot, no fungus clung to it. What strange power preserved it so?
Leaving the church, Lucian paused by the sealed cave where Lusat lay entombed, marking its location in his mind. Then he pressed onward.
His destination was the cliffs beyond. There, a Spiritspring would hurl him upward, straight to the Dragonbarrow.
And above that spring stood Fort Faroth, where the relic he sought awaited.
It was quicker than circling from Sellia's outskirts.
Through graveyards and skeletal dead he rode, until the vast spirit spring roared before him.
Torrent leapt without hesitation. Spiritspring's wind caught them, launching horse and rider nearly a hundred meters skyward, placing them gently upon the plateau where Fort Faroth loomed.
But danger was immediate. Two young dragons spotted him, their scales pale and unformed, their size smaller even than Agheel's brood.
Sensing the aura of dragonslayer clinging to his gear, they faltered, turned, and fled.
Lucian let them go, turning instead toward the burning walls ahead. Beyond lay Fort Faroth.