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Harry Potter and The Shattered Ring Chapter 9 (Golden Sky, Red Sky)
🕑 Added 2024-11-11 22:21:51 +0000 UTCThe morning sun cast long shadows across the Limgrave plains as Harry awoke to the aromatic scent of something brewing. He blinked, adjusting to the light that filtered through the partially collapsed roof of their temporary shelter. The ruins around them were bathed in golden light, making the weathered stone appear almost warm despite its age.
Roderika sat cross-legged by a small fire, her red cloak wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her hood was down for once, revealing disheveled blonde hair that caught the morning light. She was carefully tending to a crude clay pot suspended over the flames, occasionally stirring its contents with a wooden spoon.
Melina stood at the edge of the ruins, her dress swaying gently in the morning breeze. Her single visible eye was fixed on the Erdtree in the distance - that massive, golden structure that dominated the horizon.
"Where did you find tea leaves?" Harry asked, running a hand through his perpetually messy hair.
Roderika gestured to a small pile of reddish fruits beside her. "Found these growing nearby. They make a decent brew."
"That's Rowa Fruit," Melina corrected, turning from her contemplation of the Erdtree. Her beautiful hair caught the light, creating a halo effect around her head. "While it can be steeped in hot water, it's not technically tea."
"Details," Roderika waved dismissively, pouring the steaming liquid into roughly carved wooden cups. Her hands were steady now, more confident than they'd been the night before.
Melina's soft giggle was interrupted as she noticed something glinting in Harry's hand. "That ring... you didn't have that last night."
Harry looked down, surprised to find the silver band still in his palm. Its surface seemed to ripple like water in the morning light, strange runes briefly visible before fading away again. "I... I thought that was a dream."
"What was a dream?" Melina moved closer, her dress rustling against the grass. The golden ring she'd given Harry seemed to resonate slightly with its silver counterpart.
"Last night," Harry began, accepting a cup of the not-tea from Roderika, "someone came to see me. A woman... well, I think she was a woman. She was unlike anyone I've ever seen before."
The plains around them were coming alive with morning activity. In the distance, a group of sheep-like creatures grazed peacefully, their white wool stark against the green grass. A massive eagle circled overhead, its wingspan easily twice that of a normal bird. The morning mist was beginning to burn away, revealing the scattered ruins and ancient structures that dotted the landscape.
"She had four arms," Harry continued, watching Melina's expression carefully. "And this strange double face, like a ghost of herself floating beside her. She wore this enormous hat and a silver dress that seemed to be made of moonlight..."
"Ranni," Melina breathed, her usual composure slipping slightly. "The Witch of Raya Lucaria."
Roderika looked between them, confused. "Who?"
"A very powerful and very dangerous individual," Melina explained, settling beside them. Her dress pooled around her like liquid gold. "What did she want?"
"She gave me this ring," Harry held it up, watching how it caught the light. "Said it was an invitation to visit her tower in the Three Sisters, whatever that is. Something about moon magic..."
A mounted knight passed in the distance, their armor gleaming. The horse's hooves kicked up small clouds of dust as it patrolled its endless route. Closer to their shelter, a group of demi-humans scurried between rocks, their hunched forms barely visible in the morning shadows.
"The Three Sisters are three towers north of here," Melina explained, her tone careful. "Past Stormveil Castle, in a region called Liurnia."
"She also mentioned something about becoming Elden Lord," Harry added, sipping the fruit brew. It was surprisingly sweet, with an earthy aftertaste.
"Of course she did," Melina murmured, more to herself than to Harry. She looked troubled, her hand unconsciously touching her closed eye.
The morning air was growing warmer, and with it came the sounds of the Lands Between truly awakening. Strange bird calls echoed from the scattered trees, and something that looked like a cross between a bat and a gargoyle briefly darkened the sun as it flew overhead. In the far distance, near where the mists still clung to the ground, Harry could make out the massive form of the dragon Roderika had mentioned, its scales glinting like burnished copper in the morning light.
"Is she... should I be worried?" Harry asked, noting Melina's concern.
"Ranni is..." Melina paused, choosing her words carefully. "She plays a long game, Harry. Her goals are her own, and while she's not necessarily an enemy, her help always comes with strings attached."
"Like Dumbledore," Harry muttered, earning curious looks from both women.
A merchant's caravan passed on the distant road, the guard's spears visible above the morning mist. Their bells carried faintly on the breeze, mixing with the endless song of crickets and the occasional distant roar of something best left undisturbed.
"What should I do with the ring?" Harry asked, still studying its shifting surface.
"Keep it," Melina advised. "Refusing such a gift would be... unwise. But perhaps wait before accepting her invitation. Build your strength first, as we discussed."
Roderika, who had been quiet during this exchange, suddenly pointed at something in the distance. "Speaking of building strength, look there."
They followed her gesture to see a small group of soldiers marching along the road. Their armor was mismatched but serviceable, and they moved with the weary determination of men who'd fought too long for causes they'd forgotten.
"Good practice," Melina nodded. "Better than caves to start with. Their patterns are predictable, and they carry decent runes."
Harry stood, brushing grass from his school robes - which were starting to show signs of wear from this harsh new world. The fabric was torn in places, and the Gryffindor colors were dulled by dust and time.
"We should find you more suitable armor," Melina observed, noting his attire. "Something that offers better protection than school clothes."
"There's a merchant not far from here," Roderika offered. "Kale, at the church. He usually has basic armor for sale."
The sun was fully up now, turning the Lands Between into a harsh but beautiful tableau. The Erdtree's golden light touched everything, creating long shadows and bright highlights that made the world seem both more real and more dreamlike than Harry's home.
"Right then," Harry said, carefully pocketing both rings. "First the soldiers, then the merchant, then maybe we can talk about caves and... whatever else this world has in store."
As they packed up their small camp, Harry couldn't help but notice how the silver ring seemed to pulse faintly in his pocket, like a heartbeat in tune with the phases of a moon he couldn't see. Somewhere in the north, past the imposing bulk of Stormveil Castle, three towers waited in eternal moonlight, and in one of them, a many-armed witch watched and planned.
One Week Later
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across Limgrave's rolling hills as Harry guided Torrent, his spectral steed, along the worn path. After a week of cave-diving and catacomb-crawling, his school robes had been replaced with leather armor purchased from Kale, though he'd stubbornly kept his Gryffindor tie as a reminder of home. Roderika wasn't with them right now, she had decided to stay with Artan and his group for now, saying she wasn't a big fan of fighting. Harry made sure to appear in his real world every now and then. He didn't want to ignore Hermione and Ron, especially Hermione.
"I still can't believe every single cave had a boss," Harry grumbled, adjusting his new leather gauntlets. "That massive rat in the coastal cave, the weird crystal thing in the tunnels, that absolutely mental watchdog in the catacombs..."
"At least you're getting better at recognizing their patterns," Melina offered, sitting side-saddle behind him on Torrent. Her ability to materialize at will still startled him occasionally.
"Yeah, but why do they all have treasure chests? Did someone go around putting chests in caves and then assign monsters to guard them?" Harry's voice carried the exasperated tone of someone who'd spent too much time fighting oversized creatures in dark spaces.
"The Shattering affected different beings in different ways," Melina explained patiently. "Some were drawn to protect things of value, even after losing their minds. It became their only purpose."
"Still weird," Harry muttered. "Back home, our magical creatures at least had the decency to live in sensible places. Like forests. Or the third-floor corridor that's strictly forbidden to all students."
Melina's slight giggle was interrupted by a distant cry for help. They were passing near a hillside dotted with ruins and those strange golden trees that seemed to grow everywhere. The voice came from somewhere above them.
"Help! Oh, please, someone help! I'm stuck!"
Harry pulled Torrent to a stop, peering up the hill. The landscape was typical Limgrave - patches of grass interspersed with weathered stone, ancient ruins suggesting grandeur long past, and the occasional group of sheep-like creatures that Harry had learned were called "sheep-goats" (which he thought showed a disturbing lack of creativity in naming).
"Should we check it out?" Harry asked, already knowing he would. His "saving people thing," as Hermione called it, hadn't diminished in this new world.
"It could be a trap," Melina cautioned. "Those bandits in Murkwater Cave used similar tactics."
"Don't remind me," Harry groaned. "Who puts a trap door right at the entrance of a cave? And that guy with the twin blades was just showing off. Nobody needs to spin that much while fighting."
As they guided Torrent up the hill, they passed several of those golden-armored knights that seemed to patrol endlessly. Harry had learned to avoid them after an unfortunate encounter early in the week.
"At least these guys are more straightforward than the demi-humans," Harry commented. "Those little buggers remind me of garden gnomes gone wrong. Really wrong."
"Focus, Harry," Melina reminded him as they approached the source of the cries.
At the top of the hill, they found a rather peculiar sight. A man in elaborate armor was somehow wedged between two rocks, his legs kicking uselessly in the air.
"Oh, thank goodness!" the man called out. "I've been stuck here for hours! These rocks are remarkably snug around the midsection."
Harry dismounted Torrent, approaching cautiously. "Er... how exactly did you get stuck there?"
"Well," the man began cheerfully, still kicking his legs, "I was investigating these ruins for signs of ancient treasure, you see. Thought I spotted something shiny between these rocks. Turned out to be a particularly reflective pebble, but by then I was already stuck."
"Right," Harry said slowly, looking around for any signs of an ambush. "And you're not, say, trying to lure travelers into a trap?"
"A trap? Oh, heavens no! I'm Knight Diallos, and I assure you, getting stuck between rocks is beneath my dignity. It just... happened anyway."
Harry glanced at Melina, who shrugged elegantly. "He seems genuine enough. Though perhaps not the most... practical knight we've encountered."
"I heard that!" Diallos protested. "I'll have you know I'm on a very important quest! Or I will be, once I'm unstuck. My servant Lanya has gone missing, and I must find her!"
"Hold on," Harry said, drawing his wand. "Let me try something. Wingardium Leviosa!"
With a yelp, Diallos was lifted free of the rocks and set gently on his feet. He spent several moments adjusting his elaborate armor and trying to regain his dignity.
"Remarkable sorcery!" he exclaimed. "Though I've never seen a staff so small. Or a sorcerer so young. Or wearing a striped neck cloth..."
"It's a tie," Harry said defensively. "And I'm not a sorcerer, I'm a wizard. There's a difference. I think. Actually, I'm not entirely sure anymore."
"Fascinating! Perhaps you could assist me in my quest? I must find Lanya, and having a wizard's aid would be most helpful!"
Before Harry could respond, a distant roar echoed across the plains. They all turned to see the copper-scaled dragon by the lake take flight, its massive wings casting shadows across the land.
"Maybe later," Harry said quickly. "We're actually headed to Saintsbridge right now. Important... bridge-related business."
"Ah, of course, of course!" Diallos nodded enthusiastically. "Then I shall continue my search alone! Though perhaps I'll be more careful around suspicious rocks in the future."
As they rode away, leaving Diallos to his quest, Harry shook his head. "You know, between him and that pot fellow we met yesterday - Yura, was it? - I'm starting to think everyone in this world is a bit mad."
"Says the boy who spent the morning fighting a giant stone cat in an underground tomb," Melina pointed out.
"That was different! It had a chest! With... actually, what was in that chest? Those weird golden runes with faces on them?"
"Hero's Runes," Melina explained. "They contain the essence of Heroes, and the runes inside can be consumed."
"Details, details, Melina." Harry said teasingly, the two share a laugh, and their faces turned red, looking at each other, Harry looking over his shoulder, looking at her beautiful eye.
"Your eye is so beautiful, Melina." Harry blurted out before he could stop himself, and Melina opened her mouth to say something when they heard a loud banging noise.
The wooden planks of Saintsbridge creaked under Torrent's hooves as they crossed the narrow span. The late afternoon light caught the murky waters below, making them shimmer like tarnished bronze. That's when they saw it – a massive figure standing at the bridge's far end, its bizarre golden pumpkin-shaped helm gleaming in the sunlight.
"Well, that's a new one," Harry muttered, studying the creature. It stood as tall as Hagrid but with none of his warmth or friendliness. The pumpkin helm was intricately carved with disturbing faces, each seeming to grimace and leer at different angles. Its massive frame was covered in tattered nobleman's clothes that might have once been elegant but now hung in ruins from its hulking form. The morning star in its right hand was nearly as big as Harry himself, golden spikes catching the light ominously.
"Er... hello?" Harry called out cautiously. "Don't suppose you're just out for an evening stroll?"
The pumpkin-headed figure's only response was to drag its morning star across the wooden planks, creating an awful scraping sound that made Harry wince. It began advancing with surprising speed for something so large.
"I don't think he's interested in a friendly chat," Melina observed dryly. "Though I must say, that helm is rather... distinctive."
"You mean ridiculous," Harry corrected, quickly dismounting Torrent. "Who wakes up and decides to wear a golden pumpkin on their head?"
The creature answered with a roar that echoed hollowly inside its helm, swinging the massive morning star in a devastating arc. Harry rolled to the side, feeling the wind of the weapon's passage ruffle his hair.
"Right then," Harry muttered, gripping his sword tightly. He focused on the magical energy of the Carians, and his blade began to glow with an ethereal blue light. The Carian magic hummed through the steel.
The pumpkin-headed warrior seemed to pause, perhaps surprised by the glowing blade, but only for a moment. It raised its morning star high, the weapon's shadow falling across Harry like an eclipse.
But Harry had spent the last week learning the patterns of creatures far stranger than this one. He darted forward instead of back, his enhanced blade meeting the descending morning star. The magical edge sliced through the golden weapon like it was made of butter, sending the spiked head splashing into the river below.
A strange, almost pitiful whine emerged from within the helm. The creature stared at its severed weapon in what seemed like disbelief.
"We don't have to do this," Harry offered, even knowing it was futile. A week in the Lands Between had taught him that some confrontations were inevitable.
The creature's response was to charge forward with its bare hands, surprisingly fast despite its bulk. He stepped inside the creature's reach and drove his sword up and forward, the enchanted blade piercing through ancient armor and into the chest beneath.
The scream that emerged from within the pumpkin helm was unlike anything Harry had heard before – part rage, part pain, and part something else, something almost like relief. The massive body toppled backward, golden helm clanging against the wooden bridge as it fell.
Harry felt the now-familiar sensation of runes being absorbed into his being, like warm water flowing into empty spaces. He never got used to it, this transfer of essence from the fallen to himself. It felt too intimate, too final.
"You gave it a choice, Harry," Melina said softly, materializing beside him. "Some of these poor souls are too far gone to choose anything but violence."
"That doesn't make it right," Harry replied, cleaning his blade with movements that had become routine. "Back home, even our most dangerous creatures usually just wanted to be left alone. Here, everything seems to be broken."
The sun was setting now, casting long shadows across the bridge. In the distance, one of those massive walking mausoleums trudged along, its bell tolling mournfully with each step, while crystalline arrows from unseen archers occasionally pinged harmlessly off its armored sides.
"The Shattering broke more than just the Elden Ring," Melina explained, watching Harry's troubled expression. "It broke minds, bodies, and souls. Many of these beings you face are just echoes of what they once were, trapped in endless cycles of violence and protection."
"Like the dragons?" Harry asked, remembering the copper-scaled beast by the lake. "They seem more... aware than most."
"The dragons are different," Melina agreed. "They remember what they once were, which in some ways makes their current state even more tragic."
A group of those strange octopus-like creatures floated past in the river below, their tentacles gently waving in the current. Despite their alien appearance, they seemed peaceful enough when left undisturbed, unlike so many things in this land.
"I just wish..." Harry started, then shook his head. "I wish there was a way to help them instead of just... ending them."
"Sometimes ending their suffering is the only help we can offer," Melina said gently. "But it speaks well of you that you still wish for alternatives, even after all you've seen."
"Come on," Harry said finally, mounting Torrent again. "We should find shelter before dark. Those giant bears are bad enough during the day – I really don't want to meet one at night."
"Especially not after what happened in Mistwood," Melina agreed, materializing behind him with a touch of amusement in her voice.
"Hey, how was I supposed to know it could roll like that? Bears shouldn't be able to roll! It's just not natural!" Torrent started riding forward; Harry hoped he would find that Golden Seed soon. Patches had told him that a Golden Seed could be found in a church on the far east side of Limgrave. He would have ignored the man, but Yura said the same thing yesterday, saying the place was quite dangerous.
The sun had nearly disappeared behind the horizon when Harry, Melina and Torrent splashed through the shallow waters of what remained of Summonwater Village. Collapsed buildings, rotting wooden posts, and everywhere Harry looked bones. So many bones.
"I don't like this," Harry muttered, feeling uncomfortable. "It's like the whole place is just waiting..."
"Your instincts serve you well," Melina said softly. "Death has marked this place."
As if summoned by her words, a haunting horn call echoed across the waterlogged ruins. Harry turned Torrent sharply, water spraying from the spectral steed's hooves, and saw one of the strangest sights yet in this land of strange sights.
A ghostly figure sat in what appeared to be a wooden skiff, except the boat was gliding over mud and shallow water as if it were on invisible waves. The being had an otherworldly purple glow, its form more solid than a ghost but less substantial than a living being. In its hands was a curved horn that seemed to be made of bone.
"What in Merlin's name is he doing?" Harry asked, watching the bizarre spectacle. "And why is he boating through mud?"
"Harry," Melina's voice carried a note of urgent warning. "We're surrounded."
The sound of bones clicking against bones drew Harry's attention away from the ghostly boatman. All around them, skeletons were rising from the mud and water, purple light glowing in their ribcages like evil fireflies. They wielded an assortment of rusty weapons – swords, spears, axes, and even what looked like a particularly aggressive femur.
"Right then," Harry said, quickly counting. "About twenty of them. You know, this reminds me of the Inferi, except less wet and more... bony."
He raised his Erdtree Seal around his right wrist, channeling the power of grace he'd been learning to control. Twenty-five golden spheres materialized around him, hovering like miniature suns.
"Bombarda Maxima meets grace," he muttered, then sent the spheres flying. Each one found its target, exploding in brilliant golden light. Skeleton warriors shattered, bones flying in all directions. "Ha! Take that, you discount Inferi!"
"Harry," Melina cautioned, "you need to-"
"Yeah, yeah, I know – watch out for the next wave," Harry interrupted. "Except there isn't going to be a next wave because they're all in pieces- oh come on!"
The scattered bones were sliding across the ground, pulled together by that same purple light. Within moments, the skeletons were reassembling themselves, the purple glow in their chests burning brighter than before.
"As I was saying," Melina continued, a hint of amusement in her voice despite the situation, "you need to either use Holy magic or defeat the Tibia Mariner. Otherwise, they'll keep rising."
"A Tibia Mariner?" Harry asked incredulously, watching the ghost continue to navigate its boat through practically no water. "That's what we're calling him? Did someone just look at a skeleton and pick random bone names?"
"Focus, Harry!"
The skeletons were advancing again, and the Mariner had raised its horn for another blast. Harry quickly channeled magic into his second sword, creating the golden glow of the Sacred Blade that Melina had taught him.
"Alright, you lot," he called out to the skeletons, "let's see how you handle something a bit more permanent!"
He swung his glowing blade through the nearest skeleton, and this time when it fell apart, the bones didn't move to reassemble. The purple light in its chest flickered and died.
"That's more like it!" Harry grinned, then had to duck as the Mariner somehow launched a massive skull at him. "That boatghost is getting annoying!"
"Perhaps less talking, more fighting?" Melina suggested.
Harry moved through the skeleton army like he was conducting a particularly violent orchestra, his holy-enhanced blade turning the undead warriors into piles of inert bones. But for every skeleton he destroyed, the Mariner's horn call raised two more.
"This is getting ridiculous," Harry panted, after destroying what felt like the hundredth skeleton. "Right, let's deal with the conductor of this bone concert."
He charged toward the Tibia Mariner, who responded by... rowing away. On land. Somehow still making splashing noises despite there being barely any water.
"Oh, so now you're shy?" Harry called out, chasing after the ghostly boatman. "You were happy enough to throw skulls at me a minute ago!"
The Mariner turned its boat in an impossibly tight circle, raising its horn again. But Harry had faced enough bosses in the past week to recognize an opening when he saw one. He lunged forward, driving his holy-enhanced blade through the spectral figure's chest.
The Tibia Mariner let out a sound like a maritime funeral dirge played backward, its form dissolving into purple mist. The boat disappeared with it, leaving Harry standing in ankle-deep water while all around him, skeleton warriors collapsed into piles of unanimated bones.
"Well," Harry said, catching his breath, "that was... different. Though I suppose I should be grateful it wasn't another giant rat." he added as his body absorbed runes in the air.
"You handled that quite well," Melina appeared beside him, examining the scene. "Though perhaps next time with less commentary?"
"The commentary helps me think," Harry defended. "Besides, did you see how it was rowing through mud? That's just showing off. At least Torrent makes sense – he's actually touching the ground when he runs."
The spectral steed snorted at the mention of his name, splashing over to Harry's side.
Harry noticed something the boat ghost had left behind after dying. Harry approached cautiously, the murky water rippling around his boots.
"What in Merlin's name..." he murmured, kneeling to examine the object.
It looked like some grotesque parody of a seed or bean, roughly the size of his palm. Black layers, reminiscent of withered petals, formed its outer shell, and from its top sprouted a small, dark vein that seemed to pulse ever so slightly. The very sight of it made Harry's stomach turn.
Despite every instinct telling him not to, Harry reached out to touch it. The moment his fingers made contact, he recoiled with a sharp intake of breath. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt before – not cold exactly, but an absence of warmth that went beyond physical temperature. It felt like touching the essence of death itself, reminiscent of the hollow feeling he'd experienced when near Dementors, but somehow more... concentrated.
"Melina," Harry called, his voice tight with concern, "what is this thing?"
Melina walked up to him, and Harry noticed her usual calm demeanor shift to something more guarded. Her visible eye narrowed as she looked at the dark object.
"That," she said, her voice carrying an edge he rarely heard, "is a Deathroot."
Harry looked between Melina and the sinister object. "You don't seem pleased to see it."
"No," she replied quietly. "I am not."
"What exactly is a Deathroot?" Harry asked, standing up but keeping his eyes fixed on the dark mass. "It feels... wrong. Like it shouldn't exist."
Melina was silent for a moment before responding, choosing her words carefully. "It is a manifestation of Death itself, Harry. When Those Who Live in Death spread their corruption, Deathroot grows in their wake. It is... a cancer in these lands, spreading beneath the surface like veins of poison."
Harry felt the weight of her words settle over him like a shroud. "Is this what gave that Mariner its power? Its ability to raise the dead?"
"In part," Melina nodded. "But it's more than that. Deathroot is both symptom and cause, an endless cycle of death corrupting life, which in turn breeds more death."
Harry pulled out a cloth from his pouch, carefully wrapping the Deathroot without touching it directly. "We can't just leave it here, can we?"
"No," Melina agreed. "Though I wish we could destroy it, these things have a way of... persisting. But there are those who study them, seeking to understand and contain their influence."
"Sometimes," Harry said quietly, securing the wrapped Deathroot in his pouch, "I think I'm starting to understand this world, and then something like this appears and reminds me how little I actually know."
"The Lands Between hold many dark secrets, Harry," Melina replied, her voice gentle but serious. "Some of them are better left undisturbed. But this..." she gestured to his pouch, "this is something we cannot ignore."
Soon, Harry and Melina mounted Torrent and continued their ride East toward the Golden Seed.
The change in the sky was so gradual that Harry almost didn't notice it at first. The usual golden glow from the Erdtree began mixing with hints of crimson, like watercolor bleeding across parchment.
"Melina?" Harry asked, watching as the sky transformed. "Why does it look like the sky is... bleeding?"
Melina's grip around his waist tightened slightly, but she remained unusually quiet. Harry had learned that her silences often spoke volumes.
As they rode further east, the transformation became impossible to ignore. The once-golden sky had turned into a horrifying shade of scarlet that reminded Harry uncomfortably of fresh blood. Even the clouds seemed stained with it, swirling in patterns that made his eyes hurt if he looked too long.
"Right then," Harry muttered. "Nothing ominous about this at all."
Torrent's hooves clattered against broken stones as they approached a weathered church. Like many structures in the Lands Between, it had seen better days, its walls crumbling and its windows long since shattered. But what caught Harry's attention was the figure inside – a massive... jar? With arms?
"Er, hello?" Harry called out cautiously, dismounting Torrent. "Are you... actually a giant pot?"
The jar turned around with surprising grace for something its size, and Harry could have sworn it performed a little bounce of excitement.
"Ah, hello there, friend!" a warm, jovial voice boomed from within the jar. "I am Alexander, also known as the Iron Fist! And what a pleasure it is to meet a fellow traveler in these parts!"
Harry blinked several times, looking between Melina and the talking jar. "I'm Harry. And you're... a talking jar."
"Indeed I am!" Alexander replied cheerfully. "A warrior jar, to be precise! Though I must admit, I'm still working on the 'warrior' part."
"Right," Harry said slowly. "And you're here because...?"
"Ah, my purpose!" Alexander's entire body seemed to wiggle with enthusiasm. "You see, I'm on a journey to become a great warrior! And where better to prove myself than in glorious Caelid?"
He extended one of his arms eastward, though the church's position prevented Harry from seeing what lay beyond the hill.
"What's Caelid?" Harry asked, noticing how Melina tensed slightly at the name.
"Only the most challenging battlefield in all the Lands Between!" Alexander declared proudly. "A land touched by scarlet rot, where warriors test their mettle against impossible odds! Where great heroes..." he paused dramatically, "become legends!"
"Or become corpses," Melina muttered under her breath.
"Sorry, did you say 'scarlet rot'?" Harry asked. "That sounds... unpleasant."
"Oh, tremendously so!" Alexander agreed with disturbing cheerfulness. "But what glory is achieved without risk? Though I must admit, I've run into a bit of a... sticky situation."
"You're stuck, aren't you?" Harry guessed, noticing how Alexander hadn't moved from his spot.
"Just a temporary setback!" Alexander insisted. "Though if you happened to have a spot of oil, or perhaps a good strong push..."
Harry looked at the massive jar warrior, then at Melina, who simply shrugged with a small smile.
"Well, I suppose I could try a spell," Harry offered. "Just... try not to roll over me if it works?"
"Splendid!" Alexander exclaimed. "You know, you remind me of another young warrior I met recently. Quite the determined fellow, though he had an unusual habit of rolling into every wall he came across..."
Harry positioned himself behind Alexander, trying to ignore the bizarre reality of helping a talking jar become unstuck. "Alright, on three. One... two..."
With a combination of magic and physical effort, they managed to free Alexander, who bounded forward with surprising agility.
"Ah, freedom!" he declared. "Thank you, my friend. Perhaps our paths will cross again in glorious Caelid!"
"About that," Harry said, still curious. "What exactly is in Caelid that makes it worth visiting? Besides the rot, I mean."
Alexander's tone became almost reverent. "Oh, where to begin! The festival of combat at Redmane Castle! The great General Radahn! Though I hear he's not quite himself these days... And of course, the endless battles against beings touched by the rot! It's a warrior jar's dream!"
"It's a nightmare," Melina corrected quietly, but only Harry heard her.
"Well, good luck with... all of that," Harry said, watching as Alexander prepared to depart.
"And to you, friend! May your path be strewn with glory... and hopefully less scarlet rot than mine!" With that, Alexander bounded away with remarkable speed for something his size and shape.
"Did that really just happen?" Harry asked Melina once Alexander was out of earshot. "Did I really just help a talking jar who wants to be a warrior?"
"The Lands Between are full of unique souls," Melina replied with a small smile. "Though Alexander is... particularly unique."
"He seemed nice enough," Harry mused. "For a pot. But Melina, what was he talking about? What's wrong with this Caelid place?"
Melina's expression grew serious. "Caelid is... it's not like anything you've seen before, Harry. The scarlet rot has corrupted everything – the land, the creatures, even the air itself. It's a place of madness and decay."
"And people go there willingly?" Harry asked, looking at the blood-red sky with new understanding.
"Some seek glory, like Alexander. Others seek power. Most find only death." Melina placed a hand on his arm. "But that's a concern for another day. We should find shelter before night falls completely."
