Raven walked through the great hall, his footsteps echoing through the cavernous space like the distant beat of a drum.
The soaring dome was covered in a mural depicting Queen Marika slaying the Fell God atop the Mountaintops of the Giants. Countless hanging chandeliers flickered like the myriad leaves of the Erdtree. Rows of sandalwood chairs lined the hall, their armrests padded with fresh golden silk that was clearly replaced on a regular basis.
Raven walked down the aisle between the seats and ascended the dais. Tucked beneath the platform was an inconspicuous door. Seeing no other exit, Raven pushed it open and entered a corridor.
He continued forward until another door appeared.
Every door stood wide open.
He passed through room after room, corridor after corridor, searching for a way through. He had expected to encounter servants or guards, yet he found not a single living soul. Stopping for a moment, he strained his ears to listen, but there was nothing—the entire palace was as silent as the dead.
At times, he thought he saw someone approaching from the opposite direction, only to realize upon drawing closer that it was merely his own reflection in a mirror.
Golden birds and trees adorned the ceilings and walls. Crystal display cases were filled with small figurines of warriors kneeling to receive grace, each one unique. The beveled edges of the triangular prisms of crystal enhanced the reflections; glass and jade danced together, their refracted light shimmering across the surfaces. In comparison, the Carian court felt like a simple nomad's hut.
Raven felt less like he had walked into a palace and more like a tiny visitor who had wandered into a noblewoman's colossal jewelry box. He lost all sense of direction. With every step through this labyrinth, some new, exquisite beauty caught his eye, as if the room itself were conspiring to keep him there, unwilling to let him leave.
"Hello! Is anyone there?"
His shout was quickly swallowed by the thick, syrupy air. He wanted to turn back, but by now, it felt too late; retreating seemed just as futile as moving forward.
He pressed on. Some unknown power kept the corridors and rooms at the temperature of a permanent summer. He frequently caught the scent of a fragrance, as if invisible flowers were wafting their perfume through the air. It was warm, and the carpets beneath his feet were so soft he felt he could walk barefoot and unclothed without a care.
Suddenly, he heard a faint sound—the trickling of water.
He was in a dim corridor now. At the far end hung a set of heavy drapes, parted slightly in the middle.
He reached the end, pulled back the curtain, and stepped into the unknown.
It was a small hall without a single window, everything bathed in a hazy, ethereal glow.
In the center of the room sat a marble bath. A small fountain at one end splashed gently, sending up wisps of steam. The water emitted a pure white light, which served as the only source of illumination for the entire room.
Raven recognized it instantly: the glow of Dewkissed Herba. These bioluminescent plants, which normally grew deep underground, floated on the surface, tinting the water until it looked like molten silver. The light filtered through the steam, casting blurred, dancing shadows across the walls.
Opposite the fountain stood a woman's vanity with a massive mirror. The glass was currently clouded with condensation, reflecting only a dull, misty light.
The bath was empty.
"Is anyone here?" Raven asked.
This room appeared to be the end of the corridor, but as he hesitated, he caught a glimpse of another exit on the far side. He circled the bath and then came to an abrupt halt.
There was indeed a smaller chamber behind the bath, but it had no door or frame. Instead, a single silver-white veil hung down like the hem of a goddess's gown.
The veil was so thin and translucent that the light from the bath filtered through easily, allowing Raven to see everything on the other side.
There was a bed, and on that bed, Raven saw a woman.
Strictly speaking, she was not naked. She wore a long white chemise, but the fabric was so delicate and seemingly damp that it left very little to the imagination.
She lay against the pillows, asleep. She seemed to be having a pleasant dream, for a faint smile played at the corners of her mouth, and the curve of her upper lip resembled a bird drawn by a child's hand.
Raven recognized her. Her statues were scattered across every Church of Marika in the Lands Between; he had seen several just now on the Great Road of the capital.
Queen Marika, the eternal consort of the Elden Lord.
Her golden hair spilled across the sheets, and her long lashes were lowered. From his vantage point, he could see the breathtaking contours of her body and the rosy-hued curves of her hips beneath the thin fabric. The bedding was a mess, and one of her legs rested over the thin quilt. She slept so peacefully that Raven found himself unable to make a sound for fear of disturbing her.
Marika shifted slightly on the bed, changing her position. The movement snapped Raven out of his daze. With a great effort of will, he lowered his gaze and saw a silk robe discarded at the foot of the bed.
This was a trap. A massive, tender trap. Raven wasn't sure how it was intended to work; perhaps at any moment, knights would burst in to seize him for the crime of profaning the Queen's chambers. He had to leave, though it already felt too late. Whether he stayed or fled, the outcome seemed the same.
He forced his feet to move, slowly backing away. It was then that she woke.
She sat up, her golden hair cascading over her chest. She curled her legs, touched her small toes, and then let out a long, lazy stretch.
"Has someone arrived?" she asked. "The Prince of Caria?"
Raven had already backed up to the edge of the pool. Hearing her words, he had no choice but to answer. "I am here. I apologize profusely for disturbing your slumber, My Lady. I shall wait outside immediately—"
"Just call me Marika," she said with a light chuckle. Her voice sounded like a clear spring in a lonely valley. "Come closer. Let me have a proper look at you."
She reached for her robe and skipped lightly off the bed, standing there entirely unguarded before slipping into the garment in the blink of an eye. The robe was long, hiding her hands and leaving only her calves and bare feet exposed.
She walked to the silver veil and kicked it aside with her toe, stepping into the room illuminated by the Dewkissed Herba.
Raven stood frozen, unable to move forward or retreat, his heart hammering against his ribs. Before he could turn away, Marika had already glided over and draped an arm around his shoulder.
"Raven, do I truly strike such fear into you?" Her snow-white arm wound around his neck; she had moved so quickly that the sleeve of her robe had already slipped down. "I am glad you've come."
"Your Majesty..." Raven managed to respond.
She sat on the edge of the bath and pulled him by the hand. Somehow, they ended up sitting side by side, their bodies pressed close together.
"There may be malice directed at you within this city. But do not be afraid!" She smiled. "Who could possibly harm you while you are by my side? Now, come. I wish to know what happened at Raya Lucaria and how your journey went. You came of your own volition, didn't you? A brave decision. Or perhaps... are you a prophet who knew exactly what would happen here?"
Raven's mind was a whirlwind. One part of him suspected this woman was the mastermind behind everything, while another part felt an urge to pour out his heart, feeling that there was no need for even a shred of secrecy before her.
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Elden Ring: The Unborn One's Journey Through Elden Ring(68 Chapter - Ongoing)
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