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Harry Potter and the Shattered Ring Chapter 13 (The Whispering Abyss)
🕑 Added 2024-12-30 21:51:47 +0000 UTCThe grand chamber loomed above them, a testament to a forgotten age of opulence now stained with the grime of Godrick's reign. Dust motes danced in the slivers of light that pierced through arrow slits high above. The air hung thick with the scent of mildew and something faintly metallic. Harry craned his neck, taking in the dizzying array of platforms and walkways that crisscrossed the immense space. It felt less like a room and more like a skeletal ribcage, hollow and echoing.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Melina murmured, her golden eye scanning the intricate architecture. "A testament to the ambition... and eventual downfall... of those who came before."
Before Harry could fully absorb her words, a guttural roar echoed from one of the higher platforms. Several figures, clad in the mismatched armor of Godrick's foot soldiers, scrambled into view, their rusty swords raised. They descended the winding wooden staircases with a reckless abandon, their faces contorted in a mixture of fear and fanatical loyalty.
"Another welcoming committee," Nepheli grunted, her hand already resting on the pommel of her hefty axe.
"Hold!" she called out, her voice surprisingly clear and authoritative in the cavernous room. "We seek passage, nothing more. Lay down your arms and no harm will come to you."
Her words were met with snarled defiance and the scraping of steel on stone. One particularly zealous soldier, his face scarred and his eyes bloodshot, charged forward, bellowing a battle cry that sounded more like a pained animal's yelp.
"Looks like they're not in a negotiating mood," Harry muttered, his hand instinctively moving, channeling the familiar warmth of grace magic. He'd learned quickly in the Lands Between that pleasantries often fell on deaf ears, especially when dealing with those who had sworn fealty to a figure like Godrick.
Nepheli sighed, a hint of weariness in her expression. "They rarely are, with him. Their minds are twisted, their loyalty bought with scraps and the promise of... well, whatever madness Godrick peddles these days."
The first soldier reached her, swinging his crudely sharpened sword in a wide arc. Nepheli sidestepped, the heavy blade whistling past her ear. In the same fluid motion, she brought her own axe down, the impact echoing through the chamber as it connected with the soldier's shoulder, sending him stumbling back with a strangled cry.
As more soldiers swarmed towards them, Harry joined the fray. He focused, drawing on the lessons Melina had patiently imparted. Small, incandescent orbs of golden light materialized around him, hovering like miniature suns. He flicked his wrist, and one of the orbs shot forward, impacting a charging soldier's chest with a sharp crack, followed by a burst of light and a satisfying thud as the man was thrown back against the stone wall.
"By the Erdtree!" Nepheli exclaimed, her eyes widening momentarily as she parried another attack with her short sword before burying her axe in the chest of her opponent. "I haven't seen many Tarnished wield Golden Order incantations like that." She dispatched another soldier with a brutal efficiency.
Harry dodged a wild swing and sent another orb searing towards its target. "Melina's been teaching me," he replied, his voice slightly strained as he maintained his concentration. "It feels... different from the magic I'm used to."
He saw an opening and unleashed a cluster of three golden orbs, each timed to explode in quick succession, creating a small, localized shockwave that sent several nearby soldiers sprawling.
Nepheli finished off her immediate opponent with a grunt, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. "You said Melina is teaching you? She seems... knowledgeable."
"She is," Harry agreed, sending another orb to intercept a soldier attempting to flank Nepheli. "She knows a lot about this place, the Lands Between, and... well, everything, really."
"Hmm." Nepheli narrowed her eyes, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. "So, you're a Tarnished, then? Come to claim the Elden Ring?"
Harry paused, deflecting a clumsy sword thrust with a quick burst of magic. The last soldier of this place was killed and Harry felt the runes entering his chest. "I... I suppose so. It's a bit more complicated than that, actually. What about you, Nepheli? Are you also seeking the Ring?"
She snorted, a short, humorless sound. "The Ring? Perhaps, eventually. Right now, my only mission is to deal with Godrick. Put an end to his... abominations." Her voice hardened with a barely suppressed fury. "After that... well, after that, I have words I need to exchange with my father."
"Your father?" Harry asked, unleashing another volley of golden light. "Who is he?"
Nepheli's gaze drifted towards the higher reaches of the chamber, a shadow passing over her face. "Gideon. Gideon Ofnir. They call him the All-Knowing."
Harry frowned. The name didn't ring any bells. "The All-Knowing? Is he... another powerful Tarnished?"
Before Nepheli could elaborate, Harry noticed a sturdy-looking wooden door set into the stone wall on one of the lower platforms. It looked like it might lead to one of the towers he'd glimpsed from outside the castle. "Maybe that's a way forward," he suggested, gesturing towards the door.
He approached it cautiously, trying the handle. It was firmly locked. He pushed, but the thick wood didn't budge. "Locked tight," he reported.
Melina her hand resting on the hilt of her unseen blade, spoke up. "It will require a key, Harry. Such passages are often secured."
Nepheli rolled her eyes, a flash of impatience crossing her features. She stalked towards the door, her heavy boots echoing on the stone platform. Without a word, she drew back her leg and delivered a swift, brutal kick to the center of the door.
The impact reverberated through the chamber. The solid oak groaned in protest, splintering around the hinges. The door didn't just open; it practically exploded inward, cracking down the middle and hanging precariously by a single remaining hinge. A gust of stale air and the scent of damp stone wafted out from the newly created opening.
Nepheli stood back, dusting off her boot with a dismissive air. She glanced back at Melina, a hint of smug amusement in her eyes. "After you," she said, her voice laced with dry sarcasm.
Melina raised a delicate eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. She inclined her head slightly. "Indeed." She stepped towards the ruined doorway, her elegant form a stark contrast to the violence that had just unfolded. Harry and Nepheli exchanged a brief look, a silent acknowledgment of their contrasting approaches to problem-solving.
The spiral staircase stretched endlessly upward, the stones worn smooth from centuries of footfalls. Each step seemed to resonate with a faint echo, as if the tower itself remembered every battle, every life lost within its shadow. Harry climbed alongside Nepheli and Melina, his hand brushing the hilt of his Lordsworn's Greatsword for reassurance. The silence between them was broken only by the steady rhythm of their boots against the stone.
Harry's curiosity finally broke through. "So," he said, glancing at Nepheli, "why are you so set on bringing Godrick down? I want to save my friends, and bring hope to the people of this place."
Nepheli's eyes remained fixed ahead, her grip tightening on the handle of her short axe. "It is personal," she said after a pause. "Godrick is a parasite, unworthy of the blood that runs through his veins. He claims the legacy of the golden lineage, yet all he does is desecrate it. He grafts the limbs of his victims to himself, not for strength but out of desperation to appear powerful. He's a mockery of what the Elden Lord should be."
Harry nodded, letting her words settle before he asked, "Have you fought him before?"
"Not directly," Nepheli admitted. "His forces keep me busy. But the day will come when I face him." Her tone hardened. "And I will not leave until he is no more."
The tension in her voice was palpable, but Harry pushed forward with another question. "You must have run into Margit then, on your way here. How'd you get past him?"
Nepheli sighed, her jaw tightening. "I fought him. Or rather, I tried to fight him." She chuckled bitterly. "Margit is no ordinary foe. His speed, his strength—it's like he's untouchable. He humiliated me, forced me to retreat with my tail between my legs." She paused, exhaling sharply. "I avoided the bridge after that, found a secret passage that brought me here."
Harry tilted his head. "I had to fight him too," he said.
Nepheli stopped mid-step and turned to face him, her expression skeptical. "You fought him? And you're standing here to tell the tale?"
"Defeated him, actually," Harry replied, he could almost feel the pain from where Margit had stabbed him. Harry was no stranger to pain, but that stab had hurt quite a lot.
Nepheli raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. "You defeated Margit?" She gave him a quick once-over. "You don't look like someone who could take on Margit the Fell Omen."
Harry bristled, opening his mouth to retort, but Nepheli held up a hand. "Relax," she said, chuckling softly. "Looks don't mean much. I've met Tarnished who seemed frail, even weak, but turned out to be far stronger than me. Maybe you're one of those surprises."
Harry smirked faintly and nodded. "Maybe."
They climbed the final steps and emerged onto a wide, open platform. The wind howled around them, tugging at their cloaks. From this vantage point, Harry could see almost all of Limgrave. The vast plains stretched out below, dotted with ruins and rivers. The golden light of the Erdtree shimmered in the distance, a beacon of hope—or perhaps something darker.
Above them, Stormveil Eagles circled like silent sentinels. Their talons gleamed in the sunlight.
Nepheli glanced upward, her hand instinctively tightening on her axe. "Those birds," she muttered. "They are very annoying, is difficult to fight with something that always keeps it's distance from you."
They descended a short flight of stairs to the foot of the second tower. Standing guard was a figure unlike any they'd encountered before. He was massive—over two meters tall—and clad head-to-toe in silver armor that gleamed like a mirror. A huge axe rested in his hands.
Melina stopped, her expression unreadable. "That is a Banished Knight," she said quietly. "They are fiercely loyal to Godrick. He will not let us pass without a fight."
The knight noticed them and stepped forward, slamming the butt of his axe against the stone with a resounding clang. His voice echoed within his helmet, deep and commanding. "You will come with me to see Lord Godrick. He has summoned you."
Nepheli stepped forward, raising her weapons. "We're not here to bow to Godrick," she said sharply. "Stand aside, and we'll let you leave with your life."
The knight didn't budge. "You will come," he repeated. "There is no other option."
Harry tried to intervene. "Look, we're not looking for a fight. Just let us pass—"
The knight vanished.
In an instant, he was in front of them, moving with impossible speed. Harry stumbled backward, unsheathing his greatsword as he prepared to defend himself. But before he could act, Nepheli stepped between them, her axe raised blocking the attack before pushing the knight back.
"This one's mine," she said firmly, her eyes locked on the knight.
The knight tilted his head slightly, as if studying her. "You are Nepheli Loux," he said, his tone almost reverent. "Descended of Heroux Loux, the first Elden Lord. It will be an honor to face you. My name is Commander Conrad."
Nepheli's expression didn't waver. "Then draw your weapon, knight. Let's see how honorable you truly are."
The knight lifted his axe, the runes along its blade glowing faintly as he assumed a battle stance. "Let it be so."
The Fight
The Banished Knight struck first, his axe cutting through the air in a deadly arc. Nepheli dodged to the side, her movements quick and precise. She swung her short axe at his midsection, but he parried the blow effortlessly, the clang of steel against steel echoing through the place.
"You are skilled," the knight said, his tone devoid of malice. "But skill alone will not save you."
Nepheli responded with a flurry of strikes, her axe and short sword moving in tandem. She aimed for the gaps in his armor, targeting his joints and exposed areas, but the knight's defense was impenetrable. He moved with surprising agility for his size, his axe a blur as it countered her every attack.
Harry watched from the sidelines, his hand hovering near his sword. "Do you need—"
"No!" Nepheli barked, not taking her eyes off her opponent. "This fight is mine!"
The knight swung his axe again, the blade narrowly missing Nepheli's head as she ducked low. She retaliated with an upward slash from her short sword, the blade glancing off his chest plate. The impact left a dent, but it wasn't enough to slow him down.
"You fight well," the knight said, his voice calm. "But you lack the resolve to see this through."
Nepheli's eyes blazed with fury. "You don't know me."
She charged forward, her axe aimed at his helm. The knight sidestepped at the last moment, bringing his axe down in a crushing blow. Nepheli rolled to the side, the blade striking the ground with enough force to send shards of stone flying.
"You're quick," the knight admitted. "But can you outlast me?"
Nepheli didn't answer. She adjusted her grip on her weapons and shifted her stance. Harry recognized the change immediately—she was waiting for him to make the next move.
The knight obliged, lunging at her with a powerful swing. Nepheli sidestepped and brought her short axe down on his wrist, the blade biting into the unarmored joint. The knight grunted, his grip on the axe faltering.
Nepheli didn't hesitate. She followed up with a swift slash from her short sword, the blade cutting across the knight's midsection. He staggered back, blood seeping through the gaps in his armor.
"You... fight like him," the knight said, his voice strained but respectful.
Nepheli's jaw tightened. "Then you know how this ends."
The knight steadied himself, raising his axe for one final strike. Nepheli didn't give him the chance. She feinted to the left, drawing his attention, then darted to the right. Her axe came down hard on his neck, the blade severing the connection between his helm and chest plate.
The knight froze, his axe falling from his hands. He sank to his knees, his head bowing slightly.
"Well fought," he said, his voice barely audible. "You are worthy of your bloodline."
With that, he collapsed, his body clattering to the ground.
Nepheli stood over him, her chest heaving. She wiped blood from her weapons and turned to Harry and Melina. "The path is clear," she said simply.
Harry stepped forward, his eyes on the fallen knight. "That was... incredible," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration.
Nepheli didn't respond immediately. She stared at the knight's body for a long moment before finally turning away. "Let's go," she said, her tone colder than before.
Melina nodded and led the way into the tower. Harry followed, casting one last glance at the Banished Knight as they walked upstairs again.
The climb to the top of the second tower was fraught with tension, though Harry handled the occasional attacks from Godrick's soldiers with ease. His golden grace orbs hovered around him like tiny suns, striking down the approaching enemies with precise explosions that left the air filled with the acrid scent of burnt leather and metal.
Nepheli, for her part, took a step back during these skirmishes, observing Harry's magic with narrowed eyes. Melina remained silent, her cloak fluttering slightly in the breeze as they moved ever upward.
When they finally reached the top, they stepped onto a vast balcony open to the sky. The view was breathtaking. Below them, Stormveil Castle sprawled in all its labyrinthine glory. Its towering spires and jagged walls seemed to pierce the heavens, while the golden glow of the distant Erdtree cast long, surreal shadows over the land. Harry approached the edge, gripping the stone railing as he tried to take it all in.
"This place is massive," Harry said, his voice almost lost in the wind.
Nepheli joined him, leaning against the railing. "Stormveil is a fortress meant to inspire awe—and fear. Godrick has made it a monument to his vanity." She turned to Harry, studying him for a moment. "Your voice... it's different."
Harry blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Your accent," Nepheli said. "It's strange for a Tarnished. You don't sound like anyone I've met before."
Harry hesitated. "I'm... not exactly a Tarnished."
Nepheli's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? You feel like a Tarnished to me. You carry grace, just like we do."
"I'm not sure myself," Harry admitted. "But I know I'm not from this world."
Nepheli stared at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "You mean you're from beyond the Lands Between? That's not unusual for Tarnished—we were all banished."
"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "Not just beyond the Lands Between. Another world entirely."
Nepheli opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, a shrill screech pierced the air.
Harry spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword. High above, massive eagles swooped down from the sky, their talons gripping red barrels that glowed ominously in the sunlight.
"Are those..." Harry squinted. "Are those barrels of explosives?"
Nepheli groaned, raising her weapons. "Yes. Godrick's idea of aerial superiority. Watch out—those things are deadly!"
Harry muttered, "This is ridiculous," and summoned four golden orbs of light. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them hurtling toward the nearest eagle. The orbs struck the barrel it carried, detonating it in a fiery explosion that engulfed the bird in flames.
"Nice shot!" Nepheli shouted, sidestepping a falling ember as she slashed at another eagle that had swooped too close.
Melina darted past them, avoiding the chaos. "We must move! The rooftops—quickly!"
Harry launched another barrage of golden orbs, taking down a second eagle as its flaming carcass spiraled toward the ground. "Fine by me!" he shouted, following Melina's lead as they sprinted toward the edge of the balcony.
The three of them leapt onto a nearby rooftop, the tiles slick with moss. Nepheli landed with a roll, immediately slicing through another attacking eagle. Harry turned to see yet another bird diving toward them, its barrel ready to drop.
"Not today!" Harry growled, fusing his golden orbs into a larger one. The glowing sphere streaked through the air like a comet, colliding with the barrel mid-drop. The resulting explosion was deafening, the flames lighting up the sky.
"Keep moving!" Nepheli shouted, pointing to another rooftop.
They jumped from roof to roof, the wind rushing past them as they dodged falling debris and fiery plumes. Harry's legs burned with exertion, but he pushed forward, focusing on launching precise attacks whenever another eagle got too close.
Finally, they landed on a rooftop that was different from the others. The structure beneath them seemed sturdier, and the faint remnants of stained glass framed the shattered windows below. Harry crouched near the edge, peering inside.
"Looks like some kind of church," he said, his voice echoing slightly in the open air.
Nepheli joined him, her expression wary. "It's not abandoned."
Harry squinted, his eyes adjusting to the dim light within. Below, a figure moved—someone alive. The man wore an outfit so outlandish that Harry had to do a double take. Layers of frilled fabric, a tall hat, and robes that shimmered oddly in the faint light.
"Who's that?" Harry asked, glancing at Nepheli.
"Sorcerer Rogier," she said, her tone skeptical. "A spellcaster. He knows much about the mysteries of Stormveil, but he's... not to be trusted."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Not to be trusted how?"
Nepheli's jaw tightened. "Let's just say he has a habit of keeping secrets. Be cautious if you speak with him."
Harry nodded, his curiosity piqued as he turned his attention back to the figure below. Something told him that whatever this Rogier had to say, it would be important—and likely dangerous.
"Shall we go introduce ourselves?" Harry asked, standing up.
Nepheli sighed, gripping her weapons. "I suppose we must. But don't say I didn't warn you."
Harry, Nepheli, and Melina landed with soft thuds inside the small, dimly lit church. Dust motes swirled in the pale beams of light streaming through the broken windows. At the center of the room stood a man clad in layers of intricate, almost theatrical attire. His hat was tall and wide-brimmed, his robes draped in shimmering patterns that seemed to shift as he moved. His sharp eyes glimmered with curiosity as he stepped forward, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture.
"Ah, nice to meet you," the man said with a flourish. His voice was smooth, almost too polished. "The pleasure's mine. Rogier's the name. A sorcerer, as you might have guessed."
Harry exchanged a glance with Nepheli, who remained silent but kept her weapons at her sides, her stance wary. Melina stood behind them, her expression unreadable as always in front of strangers.
"My name is Harry,"
"Nepheil,"
"And I'm Melina. What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for a little something, here in the castle," Rogier continued, his tone lighthearted despite the foreboding air of the church. "When I'm not hotfooting it from the troops, that is. But enough about me. What are you doing here in Stormveil Castle? This place is bristling with Tarnished hunters, you know. They sacrifice our kind for grafting. Not exactly a place I'd stroll into without a purpose in mind..."
Harry took a step forward, meeting Rogier's gaze. "I'm here to defeat Godrick."
Rogier's expression shifted slightly, his smile thinning. "You can see it then, I take it? The guidance of grace." His voice carried a hint of wistfulness. "Well, enjoy it while you can."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
Rogier sighed, leaning on his staff. "I'm Tarnished, like you. But unlike you, I've seen neither hide nor hair of this guidance for the longest time. Still, I won't forget how it felt when I first came here, to the Lands Between."
"You don't feel grace anymore?" Harry asked, tilting his head.
"Not anymore," Rogier admitted with a faint chuckle. "Perhaps grace has little use for me now. But I've made do, haven't I? I've studied, practiced, and developed a few magical battle arts of my own. Would you care to learn one?" He gestured toward Harry with his staff. "As a fellow Tarnished, once guided by grace, I'd love to help you out, if it please."
Harry glanced at Nepheli, who gave him a slight shrug but said nothing. Turning back to Rogier, Harry nodded. "Sure. Show me what you've got."
Rogier's grin widened as he flicked his hand, producing a shimmering scroll from seemingly nowhere. He unrolled it and began to explain the intricacies of a glintstone-based battle art, demonstrating with quick, fluid movements that left faint blue trails in the air.
"The battle art you've just learned," Rogier said after Harry had paid him, "is of the glintstone family. Fascinating craft, isn't it? They were conceived at the great Academy of Raya Lucaria, to the north of this castle."
Harry examined the scroll closely, intrigued by the unique patterns and notations. "The Academy?"
Rogier nodded. "In the past, they obeyed laws which contravened the Golden Order, or so I'm told. Curious, isn't it? That the Golden Order was pliable enough to absorb practices that contradicted itself in the past. And now, with the Order broken, twisted, and in desperate need of repair, such adaptability may be more important than ever."
"That's... surprising," Harry said, his gaze flickering to Melina. She offered no reaction, her focus distant.
Rogier's tone softened, taking on an almost conspiratorial edge. "The world is far more flexible than it appears, young Tarnished. Remember that, should you choose to continue down this path."
Harry tucked the scroll away and met Rogier's sharp eyes. "Thanks for the lesson."
"Of course," Rogier replied with a bow. "Perhaps our paths will cross again. Until then, tread carefully. Stormveil hides many secrets—and many dangers."
As the trio prepared to leave, Nepheli turned to Harry, her voice low. "I don't trust him. Be wary of what he's offered you."
Harry glanced at her but chose not to argue. He had a feeling she wasn't wrong as they walked out of the church.
The path clung to the wall, their right side dropping away into a dizzying void. Wind whistled through gaps in the stonework.
"The elevator to the dungeons isn't far," Nepheli said, leading the way. "Your friends should be..." She trailed off, noticing Harry's distant expression.
His thoughts had drifted to Roderika, remembering her trembling voice as she spoke of Godrick's horrors. Now she was in his clutches, along with Artan and the others. The weight of their capture pressed heavily on his conscience.
Then he heard it.
"Help..."
The voice echoed strangely, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Harry stopped abruptly. "Did you hear that?"
Nepheli frowned, scanning the path ahead. "Hear what?"
"Harry?" Melina's voice held unusual concern. "What exactly did you hear?"
"Someone calling for help. At first, I thought..." He shook his head. "I thought it was my friends, but this voice is different."
"Help me... Help me..."
The world began to swim before Harry's eyes, colors blending and shifting. His feet carried him to the edge of the path, drawn by an inexorable pull. The abyss below seemed to deepen, to breathe.
"It's coming from down there," he whispered, leaning forward. The voice grew louder, more insistent, drowning out everything else.
"HELP ME..."
"Harry!" Melina's hand gripped his arm, yanking him back from the edge. "There's nothing down there. Nothing but death."
The voice cut off abruptly. Harry stumbled backward, his legs weak, cold sweat beading on his forehead. His breath came in short gasps as the world slowly steadied around him.
"You look terrible," Nepheli observed bluntly. "Like you've seen a ghost."
Melina's hand remained on his arm, her touch gentle but firm. Her single visible eye searched his face with barely concealed worry. "You need to rest. Whatever that was... it's drained you somehow."
"I..." Harry tried to take a step and swayed slightly. "I think you're right."
"There's a site of grace nearby," Nepheli said, pointing toward a squat building where the path terminated. "I spotted it earlier. Should be safe enough for a short rest."
"I'll help you," Melina said softly, slipping her arm around Harry's waist to support him. Despite the situation, he noticed a faint warmth in her cheeks that had nothing to do with exertion.
They made their way slowly toward the building, Harry's strength gradually returning with each step. But the voice lingered in his memory, calling to something deep within him. What had he almost walked into? And why had he been the only one to hear it?
"Don't worry about it now," Melina murmured, as if reading his thoughts. Her presence beside him was comforting, grounding. "First, we rest. Then we find our friends."
Nepheli took point, axes ready, as they approached the building. But Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something in that abyss had recognized him, had known exactly who and what he was. Something that wasn't finished with him yet.
