Chapter 7: The Stormhawk Warrior

The Golden Runes were the lingering grace of the Erdtree, a form of energy that wove together the very fabric of life and soul. They were once a gift, freely given to the denizens of the Lands Between. Now, they would be used to nurture a new Erdtree. A perfect, fitting cycle.

These thoughts flashed through Tarnes's mind as he summoned one small, golden orb after another into the palm of his hand. Each was a swirling vortex of tiny golden motes, their brilliance and depth of color varying with the amount of grace they held. The more potent the rune, the closer its hue was to pure, molten gold.

In the distance, Gandalf sat by a small, crackling fire he had lit with a spark from his Ring of Fire, roasting the sausage Tarnes had given him. But when the Golden Runes materialized, the wizard's attention was instantly captured. His wise eyes, which had seen millennia pass, widened with a restless curiosity. He watched, utterly captivated, as Tarnes held the glowing orbs. It was not until the acrid smell of burning meat reached his nose that he was jolted back to the present.

He hastily pulled the blackened sausage from the flames, then took a long, thoughtful draw from his pipe.

What is that? Gandalf wondered, the smoke swirling around his face and obscuring his expression. Soul? Magic? No, it is like neither. I have never seen such an energy, so vibrant and full of life… Is this something from his homeland?

The wizard suppressed the torrent of questions bubbling up inside him. He had come here merely to observe the fallen star, to discern whether it brought friend or foe. But every new revelation from this stranger filled him with a profound sense of wonder. He knew, then, that he would have to have a long talk with this visitor from beyond the sky.

Tarnes crushed the runes in his hand. With a sound like shattering glass, a cascade of golden particles drifted down, drawn into the sapling as if by an invisible current. The small tree pulsed with light and began to grow again, its trunk thickening, new branches unfurling, and tender leaves sprouting from its limbs.

Seeing that it was working, Tarnes summoned more runes—this time including the potent Hero's Runes and the legendary Lord's Runes, both of which glowed with a near-perfect golden light. Hero's Runes were the lingering grace of the great champions of the battlefield. Lord's Runes were the echoes of those destined for kingship, a fate that had become a distant dream after the shattering of the Elden Ring. Even Tarnes possessed only a precious few.

But for the Erdtree, no price was too high. He crushed them all.

The tree surged upwards, its growth accelerating until it towered over him, its trunk now as thick as a man. Golden leaves shimmered on its branches, and silken threads of light drifted down like weeping willow fronds. The night wind rustled through its dense canopy, a sound like a joyful sigh that brought a faint smile to Tarnes's face.

The sapling was a sapling no more. It was a young tree.

To Tarnes, who had stood in the shadow of the true Erdtree, this was still but a fraction of its potential glory. But it was a start. It could now draw sustenance from the soil on its own, converting it into Grace and returning that blessing to the land. The grass around its base was already beginning to glow with a faint golden light. He ran a hand over the bark, feeling its incredible hardness. Ordinary iron would not even scratch it.

Gandalf watched, his pipe forgotten in his hand, his expression one of pure astonishment. The tree's nascent beauty reminded him of Lothlórien, the fairest realm in all of Middle-earth. A vision of the future flickered in his mind: this young tree grown into a magnificent pillar of light, reaching for the heavens.

"Beautiful, bright, brilliant… and full of life," Gandalf murmured to himself. "Mr. Tarnes, you have, in some small way, already decided the future of this world."

Tarnes, however, was already lost in communion with the tree, his thoughts connected to the Elden Ring within it. The spectral images in his mind, once dim, now blazed with light.

His first thought was of Leyndell, the Royal Capital. It was the only place truly fit to be the seat of the Erdtree. But when he focused on its image, he found the option to summon it into reality was greyed out. The tree was not yet strong enough. The names of the capital's greatest figures—Morgott the Omen King, Godfrey the first Elden Lord, Radagon of the Golden Order, and Queen Marika the Eternal herself—were likewise dormant. Even the common soldiers and knights of the city could not be called forth until the capital itself was remade.

Then what can I summon now? he wondered.

He found his answer in an unexpected place: the Roundtable Hold. Though it lay within Leyndell, its true nature was separate, existing within the Great Runes, outside the physical world. The Elden Ring was now the vessel for those runes. The knights of the hold could be summoned.

He saw their names lit up, a roster of legendary warriors. Sir Gideon Ofnir, the All-Knowing. Fia, the Deathbed Companion. Ensha of the Royal Remains. The list went on. Yet, he hesitated. Many of these knights he had fought and defeated in the cycles of the past. Though their memories were meant to reset, he could not be certain they would now be allies.

And then he saw them. Two names at the very bottom of the list, names that echoed with the roar of fire and the crackle of lightning. Vyke and Bernahl, Knights of the Roundtable. He could summon them. But he did not trust them.

His thoughts turned instead to the allies who had stood by him through every hardship. He focused his will, and the Elden Ring responded. The image shifted, revealing a warrior of formidable build and unwavering loyalty, one who had fought beside him even against Godfrey himself. Her name shone brightly, ready to be called.

Come, he called out in his mind. With your battle-axe, your thunder, and your storm, fight alongside me once more.

In the world of the living, the golden leaves of the young Erdtree rustled. Brilliant light gathered in the air, coalescing into the form of a valiant and beautiful woman.

She had shoulder-length black hair, healthy wheat-colored skin, and piercing crimson eyes. Dressed in barbarian attire that revealed her powerful build, she knelt on one knee before Tarnes, raising the great battle-axe slung at her waist in a gesture of fealty.

"I know not where this is, but if you have need of me, my eternal lord and king, then I am yours. My wings shall be your shield, my thunder shall clear your path, and my storm shall destroy all enemies who stand before you."

Her voice was strong, filled with an unshakeable resolve.

"I will raise a storm to blow away the filth in the wind. Nepheli Loux, Warrior of the Stormhawks, answers the call."

***

(End of Chapter)

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