Chapter 41:

Ugh, Bugs

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"Talking"

"Thoughts"

"Powerful Beings"

"Whatever the Daughters of Chaos speak"

/+/+/+/+/

Havel huffed as the latest (and hopefully last) demon vanished into light. "I see what you mean about the big ones being 'stubborn'." At least Mildred had decided to stay behind and recover (and profusely apologize to Laurentius); he didn't want to have to listen to her on top of everything else.

"I forgot to add stupid," Quelaag said, picking off bits of flesh from her blade, "Thank heavens that first herd near Quelarron's cocoon were content to stay put."

"Too bad we ran into those worms," Kirk growled, glaring at Siegmeyer as he shook his still gooey blade at them.

"It was worth it!" The Onion Knight defended himself, reaching into his satchel to show-off the Ember he'd found.

"Ah yes, an item none of us can use," Kirk clapped sardonically, "Truly, you are the greatest of adventurers."

"…Thank you for the compliment," Siegmeyer eventually said, pocketing the item once more.

"That wasn't—"

"Through that entryway, right?" the Catarinan shouted above Kirk's barb.

"Yes," Quelaag answered, ignoring Kirk as well, "One of the last remaining entrances to Izalith lies within these ruins."

"Is this the way you and Queleia escaped from?"

"Yes." Now that Havel got a better look at the ruins, he could, vaguely, recall the route they were taking. He could recall buildings where there was now rubble and fire. The crowds that flitted back and forth, the bells that would ring to denote the time of day this far underground.

The shadowed corners where he and Quelana would whisper sweet nothings and sneak hungry kisses. He lingered on those blissful memories for a time, until the heat of the present day shook him free of them.

He entered the building, coming to a halt as he spied a massive fog door several feet in front of him. His mind whirled at the potential set-back, until he did some mental mapping, and realized that this was simply the opposite end of the Fire Demon's domain.

Siegmeyer, a bit further ahead, next to a massive tree root leading down to their destination, gestured to the wall of fog. "I feel the need to kill that thing," he bluntly stated. "Doesn't feel right, just leaving it there to…do things."

"Give it a go," Kirk replied, "I won't stop you."

Upon seeing that the Onion Knight was actually debating the matter, Havel intervened. "Let's not forget why we're here," he said, motioning towards Quelaag and Quelana.

"Oh," Siegmeyer somberly replied, "right. Family first. It should…always come first." The Bishop didn't expect such a subdued response but left it alone in favor of moving forward.

As they walked down the tree root, Kirk whistled, "I forgot how huge this place is." He jerked his head towards the massive stone door, "and the city itself is even larger—if half-sunk in lava.

"You've been here before?" Havel asked.

"Once. When I first offered my services to Queleia." He looked up at the ceiling, "Took a very dangerous hike down the cliff to enter the city proper. Thought I could find some still living Humans that I could drain. Or the Dark Hand would prove effective against demons." He chuckled grimly, "Was I ever wrong."

"How did you come to enter her service?" Siegmeyer asked. "For that matter, how did Quelaag not kill you—oh, you know what I mean—first? You were a Darkwraith, after all." He blanched, "Oh my…you meant to kill Queleia, didn't you?" Havel frowned; yes, that…that was right. Queleia, being a Firekeeper, held a near-infinite amount of Humanity within her body. Kirk, being a Darkwraith, would have been drawn to that, to put it lightly. In light of that…yes, it was very odd that the man was still breathing.

"Funny story, that," Kirk drawled. "I was scouting out Blighttown for the rest of the Darkwraith. This was around the time the Four Kings of New Londo started to overtly kidnap and drain humans of their Humanity." Havel was struck by the reminder of Kirk's true age. A sentiment Siegmeyer seemed to share.

"I always forget how old you are," the Onion Knight said. "How old most of our group is, actually."

Kirk scoffed, "Pretty sure you're the oldest—human, that is. Havel's got the rest of us beat." That he did.

"I've only been Undead for about five years."

Kirk stumbled and would have fallen off the tree root had Havel not grabbed him by the waist (thankfully, his thorny armor was not quite sharp enough to piece Havel's stone armor). Upon regaining his footing (offering a gruff 'thank you' to Havel) he stared incredulously at Siegmeyer. "You've what?"

The Catarinan blinked, "Have I not mentioned it?"

"No," Kirk crossed his arms, "you have not."

"Hm, odd. Then again, I suppose there'd have been no reason for it to come up."

"To be fair," Havel said, "you've made numerous references to a wife and daughter you'd only recently left behind. We could have inferred from that."

"Five years," Kirk whispered in disbelief. "You've only been Undead for five years. I think Garret's been Undead longer than you, and he's the youngest looking one of us. Well, him and Beatrice," the Knight of Thorns amended, "but we also know how old she is." He huffed, mumbling more musings about the vast range of ages of those around him. "Wait," he said after a moment, glaring up at Siegmeyer, "if you've only recently contracted the Curse, then why are you here?" He stepped forward, "If you were careful, you could have stayed with your family for at least another decade. Why leave?"

Siegmeyer sighed, posture slackening. "It was best for everyone involved. People have been growing increasingly wary and suspicious, after all." Havel doubted that was the whole story, and a quick glance at Kirk revealed that he thought the same. Regardless, he wouldn't prod. Considering the fact that the man's human daughter was in Seath's clutches, he didn't need to be mired by the past quite yet. Kirk let the matter drop, and was set to continue his tale, if not for the fact that by that time they'd caught up to the Daughters of Chaos.

Quelaag scoffed, "Took you long enough."

"Not everyone can crawl along walls," Kirk snarked. Her spidery half hissed at him. He growled back.

"What did Garret say was behind this door again?" Siegmeyer asked. "Some sort of insect?"

"He said it looked like a big, bloated tick," Havel replied. Siegmeyer made to speak once more, only for Quelaag to cut him off.

"We'll find out soon enough." She moved forwards, placing her right hand on the door. There was a low groan, and it quickly sank into the ground, revealing the path ahead. Once the pathway was fully revealed, one of those insects Garret spoke of hopped in front of them. Havel wouldn't say it looked like a tick, though, more like—

"AIIIEE!" Quelana suddenly shrieked. Before anyone could so much as blink, she ran forward, blasting the insect with a fireball. "Kill them, quickly!" she commanded.

Siegmeyer shook off the shock first, running forward with a harsh bellow and bisecting one of the hopping insects. The rest of them had much more subdued reactions, more focused on staring confusedly as Quelana swore and blasted fire left and right. The last insect—heavily charred from Quelana's assault—hopped weakly in front of Havel. He calmly raised his foot and stomped it to a squishy pulp.

A few feet ahead of them, Quelana stood hunched over, panting as she whipped her head from side-to-side.

"Sister," Quelaag began hesitantly, "would you care to—"

"Shh!" Quelaag jerked back her sister's harsh hiss. The physically unchanged Daughter of Chaos returned to scanning the area. "Is one here…?" she trailed off.

Havel slowly stepped forward. "Is one what here, Quelana?" But his question fell on deaf ears as Quelana shushed him as well.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Siegmeyer whispered to Kirk.

The Knight of Thorns scoffed, "Don't ask me!" The two humans turned to Havel, who shrugged helplessly. He'd never seen Quelana so worked up before. He turned to Quelaag, who could do naught but stare wide-eyed at her sister.

"Sister—"

"There!" The younger Daughter of Chaos exclaimed. They were all left dumbstruck as she summoned a large orb of red flames in her hand, hurling it at a dead insect.

Until the dead insect emitted a bright white light and a piercing shriek upon making contact with the flames. Then, they all jerked back (Quelaag nearly crushing Kirk in the process) as Quelana blasted the not-quite-dead insect with more fire. When those flames started to die out, she threw yet another fireball. When those flames died, Havel finally found the strength to speak.

"Quelana, love," he began tentatively, "what…the hell was that?"

The Daughter of Chaos huffed, gesturing to the pile of ashes. "That was," she paused, "…I don't know its name but it's a terrible creature." She eyed the ashes with disdain, "I've run into a few of them during my self-imposed exile."

"I've never come across them," Quelaag said, eyeing one of the other dead insects.

"And how far have you travelled in the past centuries?" Quelana queried Quelaag. To that, the latter remained silent. Quelana started once more, "As far as I can tell they were born from," her voice wavered a touch, "from Mother's failure." Havel frowned; those bugs, demons? Certainly, a diverse group of beings. "When they reach the final stages of their lifecycle, they emit a bright light and hypnotize other beings."

"And then what?" Siegmeyer gulped, "They consume them?"

But Quelana shook her head. "It detaches its head and clamps onto the head of its victim, taking them over."

"Ah…" Siegmeyer breathed, "I can…certainly see what Garret wanted us to kill them."

"Why only burn that one to a crisp?" Kirk asked, aiming his blade at a nearby insect. "What made that one special?"

"The eyes," Quelana answered. "They have a glow to them when they reach that final state. And even if grievously injured, the head can still detach from the body."

"…Would have been nice to know that from the start," Kirk growled.

"I didn't—"

"He's talking about Garret," Havel gently cut Quelana off. He turned to stare at Siegmeyer when the man scoffed, "And we've already established that he's not perfect." He chose not to add that, in order for Garret to implore them to kill these bugs, he'd had to have seen their parasitic abilities. He pushed such thoughts from his mind. "Let's continue onward.

/+/+/+/+/

Quelana kept a sharp eye out for more of those horrible insects as they made their way up the stairs to what remained of Izalith. At least, that was the plan, until she reached the top of the steps to the bridge and saw the ruins of her home for the first time in…so long ago that she'd lost count.

It was all covered in lava. Except for her mother's palace—the inner sanctum, at least—everything was drowned in molten earth. No…not everything. Some buildings still stood. Only the tops, but it was enough for her to recognize the layout. Enough that her mind was able to trick itself into seeing how things once were. See the people walking through the streets. Hear children laugh and merchants haggle. Smell the earth around them.

"Quelana." The Daughter of Chaos jolted as someone grabbed her shoulder. The pervasive heat told her who it was, but she still looked up to face Quelaag, her face no doubt a mirror of her own. "You were rooted in place," her sister whispered.

Quelana licked her lips, stepping back. "Er, sorry," was her lame reply. "I was just…"

"I know," Quelaag commiserated, voice hardening like steel, "I know." The mutated Daughter of Chaos rose to her full height, skittering forward. Quelana stared after her, eyes lingering on her spidery lower half. Quelaag and Queleia both admitted to having no idea why they'd mutated as such, when everyone but Quelaan and herself had died. Queleia believed that it was a boon from their mother; one final attempt at protecting them. But then, why only the two? Why not all seven? It made more sense, in Quelana's eyes, that is was just a fluke, a little, divine prank worthy of the Flame their mother foolishly birthed. Quelaag, oddly enough, stayed neutral. She'd just told them they couldn't afford to wonder what their mother was thinking during her final push to madness. A sound argument.

"Hold," Havel's steady voice broke through her thoughts. He stood ahead of them, holding his hammer forward. She had to step to the side to see what had worried him. Her stomach dropped when she saw the headless form of a Titanite Demon. Not like the demons her mother spawned, though. No, these were creatures of stone and lightning (something that aggravated Gwyn when they'd first been discovered. But then Mankind discovered that same ability, and his rage was quickly directed towards them.) Mankind purported that the monsters came to life after some great blacksmith deity died. That they came from the original Titanite Slabs which were corrupted after the deity's fall. Quelana was inclined to disagree.

As far as she was aware, there was no singular 'Blacksmith Deity'. The only 'divine' blacksmiths she was aware of were the Giants, Boram first-and-foremost. As for the slabs…well those were a proper mystery. Not even Seath knew their origins; they'd simply always been there, left untouched until the Four Lords discovered their capabilities. Of course, she could understand why the Dragons would not feel the need to craft weapons and armor—until the Four Lords, they'd never known conflict.

Sometimes, before everything went to hell, she'd wonder how different things might have been had the Dragons been more prepared for the war imposed on them. Had they developed strategy, as opposed to simply following their frantic (if effective) instincts. Created weapons to supplement their claws and magic. Armor to guard their (now disproven) invulnerable scales.

Her Mother called her a fool for pondering such terrifying things. Most people had, actually (they weren't wrong, she rationalized. They were fighting a war, why wonder how it could be harder). Havel hadn't, though. He just frowned at her and sincerely asked if such a thing was possible. She'd never expected to be taken seriously, and she could still vividly recall the way her jaw worked as she attempted to respond.

An auspicious start to their relationship.

"…should just stay back, fire won't help any. Alright?" Quelana blinked, partially started at Havel's question. She'd gotten lost in the past again—the sooner they left Izalith behind, the better.

"Yes," Quelaag said, "me and Quelana will stay back, let you all whack it with your odd assortment of weapons."

"I'll hang back as well," Kirk said. When Siegmeyer tilted his head at him, the Knight of Thorns gestured to his barbed blade, "I've found that this works best on fleshy things." Siegmeyer nodded and followed Havel forward.

The demon took quick notice of them, raising its weapon and firing bolts of lightning. Havel burst ahead of Siegmeyer, keeping his stride as bolt after bolt was absorbed by his shield. The Catarinan roared, blade held low as he sprinted for the demon. It halted its magical assault in favor of a physical one, pulling its weapon back and swinging for as Siegmeyer. But, in an impressive feat of agility, he leapt above the strike, raising his blade high and swinging it down against the demon's arm, cleaving through the stone.

Kirk whistled lowly as the demon reared back and tried to stomp Siegmeyer. "I forget how strong that man is."

"He could put Silver Knights to shame," Quelaag agreed.

Quelana sniffed, tilting her head as Havel, who'd finally caught up, swung his hammer into the demon's side, sending it crashing to the floor. "Havel's still stronger."

Quelaag snorted, "Says the woman that shares a bed with him."

Quelana huffed, "If anything, that just leads greater credence to my words."

"Oh? How so, sister?" Quelaag leaned down, grinning viciously, "In what ways has he personally proven his strength to you?" Quelana blushed at the insinuation and made to reply. Only for Kirk to bluntly interrupt up them.

"Can we not talk about your sex lives?" He drawled.

The Daughters of Chaos both stared at him, Quelana making the first move. "Er, right," she mumbled bashfully.

"It was just a way to pass the time," Quelaag defended herself.

"A terrible way," Kirk replied. Quelana had to agree, and looked back at the fight. Just in time to see Havel slam his hammer into the demon's side, sending it sprawling off the bridge and into the lava below.

"We're good!" Siegmeyer shouted, holding up the demon's weapon with both hands. "Let's be on our way!"

Something seized in Quelana's heart. They were so close, now. Close to Mother. Close to Quelaan. Her mouth went dry; Mother, what was left of her, at least, had to die. But Quelaan? Garret didn't have anything specific to say about her, only that she guarded the entrance to Izalith's inner sanctum and, supposedly, kept her original form. Had she actually been transformed into a demon, trapped in her old flesh? If she wasn't, if Quelaan had managed to keep her wits along with her form, then why stay and guard Mother?

With any luck, they'd get those answers.

/+/+/+/+/

When they reached the end of the bridge, Quelana was hit with more flashes of a bygone age. She could see her and her sisters' mansion—a building she rarely used, as she spent her nights in Anor Londo with Havel more often than not. The forum where citizens would say their pieces, in an effort to gain an audience with their mother. The library, the training hall, the hospital. All naught more than rubble, now. A consequence of her mother's hubris—of all their hubris.

Havel, Siegmeyer, and Kirk took care of the roaming demons easily enough. Those that didn't run—or float—screaming for the hills at the sight of Quelaag. It was…odd. She didn't think demons had such a sense of self-preservation. Of course, she'd only seen a handful in the countless centuries between her recovery and reuniting with Havel. Who's to say that they couldn't evolve from the mindless beasts they were born as. Thinking further…wasn't that what she and everyone else was like before they found the First Flame? After? According to her mother, the…things they were before she breathed life into them were little more than shambling dolls. And after…they'd been born during the prelude to war.

Yes…yes, she remembered. One of the first things Quela had said to her and her sisters. "My hope," she said as they all stumbled around, getting used to their new and improved bodies, "is that cooler heads shall prevail." Her eyes—back when their warm orange glow was the norm—dulled, "That you won't have to…experience, what I have." She was wrong. The dragons burned them just as readily as they had Mother and the other Lords. But where Gwyn, Nito, and the Furtive Pygmy shied away from the fire, they learned from it. Embraced it. Controlled it. Turned the blistering heat against their foes.

And now they are once again beset by fire-breathing monsters, and once again, they (the last three, perhaps four, left) have learned to turn that fire back against their foes. Funny, that.

"Looks like we can head up on the large branch," Siegmeyer said, breaking her from her reverie. Indeed, there was a large, winding branch leading up the ruins towards the inner sanctum.

"There used to be a set of stairs just over there," Havel said, sighing lowly.

Quelaag laughed, "I remember. Provided a good view of most of Izalith." Her voice lost its mirth, "Quelaria liked to watch the city as it slept. She always tried to get me to join her. I…I always found some stupid reason to not." Quelana gasped raggedly, because now she too was remembering their sister's habit. And along with it came other memories. Finding Quelynna asleep at the library more often than not. Queleia and Quelin sneaking off into the lower levels despite their mother's admonishments. Quelaan's visible relief when their mother would praise her actions. Quelaag and herself—

"Stop."

Quelana jerked back from Havel's voice, staring up at him when he held his hands up placatingly. "You were…out of it. You and Quelaag both." She looked over to her sister, who had sorrowful look on her own features. Even her monstrous lower half was somber, its orange glow dulled to embers.

"C'mon," Havel whispered, taking her hands into his own, "Quelaan should be just a bit further ahead. Once we've found her, we'll leave, and you won't have to come back until," he hesitated, "…until Garret's business is done."

"Until Mother is truly dead," she whispered. She'd wished for it, often enough. The end of her mother's suffering. She wasn't…she wasn't having second thoughts. She knew that whatever was left of Quela needed to die. The thought had lingered in the back of her mind for centuries. Unfortunately, that thought was also the one constant of her life since disaster struck. To finally part with it…

She shook her head. She was being foolish; that was a part of her life she should be glad to part with, not weary. Besides, she now once more had Quelaag and Queleia, at least, in her life again. Havel as well. And Gwyndolin and Ornstein (which was the shock of all shocks).

Finally, she clenched her fists, lifting her head up and staring resolutely at Havel. "I'm okay. I'm ready." The Bishop hummed, rubbing circles into the back of her hands with his thumbs before moving forward himself. She stayed in place for another moment, before reaffirming her resolve and walking forward and joining the others at the top level.

"Do you see her?" She asked as she stepped in line with the others.

"I believe I saw a flash of black atop the steps," Siegmeyer grunted, "but I cannot say for sure."

"How do you want to handle this?" Havel asked.

Quelana exchanged a glance with Quelaag, who stepped forward, "Quelana and I will meet with her. Alone. If she's kept her wits, we don't want to scare her."

"And if she hasn't?" Kirk queried in an oddly soft voice.

Quelaag faltered, wringing her hands together.

"…You know what to do," Quelana said in her stead. She could feel their eyes bore into her, but she ignored them, looking to Quelaag. "Let's go." Her sister nodded, and they made their way up the steps. They stopped halfway up, however, Quelaag, gently grabbing her shoulder.

"You should go up first," she said. "You two always got along better than I with her. And you're not," she gestured to her lower half, which hissed mournfully. The physically unmarred Daughter of Chaos frowned, but silently agreed that they should put their best foot forward.

Thus, she continued the rest of the short trip alone. She once more stopped, just before the last set of stairs. She tried her best but couldn't see a sign of her sister. Garret had said that she just spent her time guarding the entrance to the inner sanctum but…he'd been wrong before. What if she ran down to be with their Mother? Perform some profane, demonic magic to gain more power and kill them? What if she had slipped away and was preparing to attack them from behind? What if—

She stopped herself with a shake of her head. No time for second guesses.

She lifted her head, taking a deep breath. "Quelaan!" She cried. "It's me, Quelana. I'm safe, sister! I survived our," she faltered, "…our folly. And I'm not alone! I've found Quelaag and Queleia. We're still here!" She paused, and when silence greeted her, she added, "Please, Quelaan! Answer me!"

"…Quelana?" A hidden, raspy voice hissed in their mother's tongue, "Is it really you?"

Quelana searched, but her sister was well-hidden. Thus, she replied, "Yes, yes, it's me, Quelaan. Please, show yourself."

"…No, NO!" She spat, "You're not real! You're just another trick! Another falsehood conjured by my addled mind…" she trailed off, tears in her voice.

Quelana shook her head, continuing up the stairs. "I'm not! I swear it!" She licked her lips, "I…I know I can't exactly prove it to you, but please, trust me. Believe me." She reached to top of the stairs and could finally see her. There Quelaan was, face hidden deep within her hood, huddled against a broken wall hugging her knees and mumbling to herself. "Quelaan?" Her elder sister flinched, drawing deeper into herself. Quelana moved in front of her, squatting down. She reached out to touch her, only to recoil at the intense heat emanating from her body. She couldn't see any flames, but it must have been some sort of protective magic. Instead, she leaned back, pulling her hood down. "Quelaan," she said, "look at me." Her sister flinched, moaning softly and keeping her head down. She grit her teeth, calling out once more. When that didn't work, she steeled her nerves, reaching out and grabbing Quelaan by her hood. She bit back a hiss as the heat seeped into her bones, directing her sister's gaze on her. She began to shout something, only for her words to die in her throat when they locked eyes. Quelana and her family, their eyes all had an orange glow to them, but Quelaan's…they were too bright, now. Not like the embers of a gentle flame. No, this was lava; pure, unabashed destruction. Her face was revealed by the glow, and Quelana's heart broke, Quelaan's face…it was like that of a corpse. A burnt corpse. Her skin was black and brown, spread thinly across her bones, her lips torn off, revealing her cracked and missing teeth. Her eyes had no eyelids, and Quelana could see their full rotation as she stared at Quelana.

Quelaan gasped. "It…It is you." She started to cry, and Quelana almost cringed when lava poured down her face instead of tears. "I thought I was the only one left." She reached out but stopped. Quelaan may have…lost some facial features, but she could recognize the unease in her gaze. Quelana just pulled her into a tight embrace. The heat proved bearable, especially when Quelaan returned the embrace and sobbed into her shoulder (even the twin streams of lava burning holes in her robes paled in light of reuniting with her sister). They stayed like that for a good while; Quelaan sobbing countless centuries worth of grief, Quelana holding her steady.

Eventually, the tears subsided, Quelaan slowly regaining her breath. "You…You said that Quelaag and Queleia are also alive?" She mumbled into Quelana's shoulder.

She nodded pulling back a bit and gesturing for Quelaag to come forward. "Fair warning, they are…changed."

"Like me?" Quelana whispered resignedly.

"…Not…quite."

Her sister grunted, only to furrow what was left of her eyebrows as Quelaag's monstrous lower half skittered up the steps. She turned around, gasping as Quelaag came to a stop. "Oh…," she lifted her head up to look at Quelaag's normal eyes, "Well, at least half of your body is unmarred." Their sister grunted, to which Quelaan lowered her hood in response. Quelaag (and her lower half) hissed. "Still," she continued, "it's not as though legs were your best feature."

Quelana, Quelaag, and her spider blinked. "W-Was that a joke?" Quelaag stammered.

"Was it?" Quelaan tilted her head eyes boring into them.

Quelaag kept her incredulous expression for another moment, before breaking out into a smile. "I've missed you, Sister," she said, reaching down and holding her arms out.

"And I've missed you, Quelaag," Quelaan replied, accepting the hug more readily than she had Quelana's.

Quelaag was the one who ended their reunion, saying, "Come with us, there is much we need to discuss."

"Of course," she replaced her hood, gazing around, "where have you been? How—" she froze, "is that Havel?" She asked, peering past Quelaag.

"As I said," Quelaag sighed, "There is much we need to discuss".

/+/+/+/+/

Havel thanked whatever luck he had left that the trip back to Queleia is uneventful. He thanked it again when Mildred keeps her mouth shut upon seeing Quelaan's…unfortunate appearance (though that was more likely due to Kirk's barbed gauntlet pressing against her fleshy neck than anything else).

Her tale was similar to her sister's—more Quelaag and Queleia's than Quelana's. Unlike the others, however, who were able to hide away as Gwyn fought the demon hordes, she was stuck in the middle of it.

"I was careful," she rasped, "never stayed in one space for too long." Her voice became a whisper, "Killed more than a few people to save my own skin."

Havel sucked in a breath as Quelana laid a comforting hand on shoulder. "Anyone you knew?" he asked, ignoring the scathing glare Quelaag sent his way.

The eldest Daughter of Chaos shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure. I never stayed to identify any remains. If any were left."

"It's not your fault," Quelana said soothingly. "You simply did what you had to do to survive," She punctuated the sentence with a frown in Havel's direction. He merely rolled his eyes; they couldn't help the woman if they didn't know the extent of her trauma. Quelaag and Queleia had had each other. Quelana roamed from place to place and taught at least one human the then-newfound art of Pyromancy. But Quelaan? She'd been alone. Stuck in the ruins of Izalith. Surrounded by enemies on all sides. Better to get to the root of the problem than take the slow approach and risk an explosion down the line.

Speaking of explosions…Havel sighed; they'd made a deliberate effort to avoid mentioning Quela's final death, but they needed to address it. "Quelaan," he said, "there's something we need to talk about." When her eyes—and he had to suppress the shiver that wanted to travel down his spine when her lidless gaze focused on him—met his, he continued, "It has to do with the lie Frampt and Gwyndolin propagated." He paused, and when no one stopped him, gave Quelaan an abridged account of the tale.

When he finished, Quelaan quickly shook her head. "We can't kill Mother."

Her sisters sighed heavily. "Quelaan," Queleia began, "Mother—she isn't—"

"I'm not being sentimental!" Quelaan cut her sister off with a hiss. "I know that Mother is a shell of her former self—a shell of a shell. But she's also the source of the flames which give demons life. All demons," she stressed, staring pointedly at Queleia and Quelaag.

Kirk burst forward, "What are you saying?"

"Um, pardon me?" Laurentius gently interjected. "But would someone mind translating that last part?"

Aloud, in the Common Tongue, Havel asked Quelaan, "Are you certain that killing Quela—what's left of her, at least—will also lead to your," he gestured Quelaan, Quelaag, and Queleia, "demises?"

Gasps and curses rang around the chamber (Eingyi's wailing 'No!' being the loudest). Havel managed to keep calm, repeating, "Are you certain?"

Quelaan helplessly shook her head, "Honestly, no. But it makes sense, doesn't it? Demons only exist because of her—Quelaag, Queleia and me are only alive because of her. If she were to die—her flame to snuff out—what would happen to all of us?"

Quelaag regained her composure, cocking a brow, "That was Lord Gwyn's fear, wasn't it? And look where that led us."

"Again, a translation would be lovely," Siegmeyer spoke up.

Suddenly, Queleia clapped her hands together. "Garret!" she exclaimed. "He should know what will happen after," she grimaced, "…you know."

Siegmeyer muttered something beneath his breath. Whatever it was, however, was lost as the Bonfire roared to life. "Hey!" Garret said as he appeared form the flames, "You're all back! Great. I was wondering if—!" he froze upon seeing Quelaan, who was staring at him in unabashed shock. "…Quelaan, right?" he asked. When she nodded, he smiled, "Nice to finally meet you." He walked towards her, holding his hand out. As this happened, Havel took note of something—a lot of little somethings—trailing after him.

"Is that…sand?" Mildred asked, peering closer at the white granules trailing after Garret.

The man paused, looking behind himself with a scowl, "Thought I cleaned all that off."

"Where'd you find sand?" Havel asked. There were no beaches in the surrounding areas. Anor Londo (and Lordran) were landlocked. He then noticed something off with Garret's armor. Indents in the shape of… "Are those fists?"

"Ready to go to Anor Londo?" Garret loudly exclaimed.

"Before that," Quelaan said, "There is something we must discuss."

"…Someone want to translate for me?" Quelana offered her services and relayed her sister's question. After which Garret huffed, waving his hand flippantly. "Oh, you guys will be fine," he said.

"Will they?" Kirk growled, stomping forward and leaning into Garret's face. "Because I remember you saying that believe Ana would 'be fine'?"

Garret's face darkened. "…Fair enough," he ground out. He stepped back, crossing his arms. "Suppose there's no harm in telling you; I planned on telling this to everyone later, but hey, who cares. The flame Quela made; it's more like the First Flame than not."

"What do you mean?" Quelaag asked. "Mother failed."

"Technically, yes," Garret nodded. "She was unable to create an exact copy of the original First Flame. But," he held his hands up with a grim smirk, "she did manage to create a source of power which burns insanely hot and is capable of transforming beings from their original forms."

"…Oh," Quelaan gasped. "When you put it like that…" she trailed off.

"Granted," Garret continued, "I don't think it works exactly like the First Flame; from what I can gather it's got more of a hive-mind thing going on and isn't at risk of dying for…I don't know how long. And as long as no one tries to do anything stupid like magically bind and stifle the Flame out of fear," the humans among them looked confused, but Havel and the remaining Daughters of Chaos all shifted their gazes away. How foolish they had all been, back then. "Regardless, you don't have to worry about dying for a long time. So," he clapped his hands together, "shall we head off?"

"…You are cert—"

"Look," Garret cut Quelaan off, voice dry, "I've got a lot on my plate right now. And not for nothing, but I'd rather spend my time clearing it than explaining a bunch of stuff that can wait until I'm done." Quelaan and Quelaag both looked put out at his statement, but stayed quiet, nonetheless. "Great," Garret frowned, "As far as I'm aware, there's no limit on how many people can travel through at a time, but I've been told that it hurts. So, huddle up!"

The Daughters of Chaos grouped together first, Quelana extending a hand to Havel, and Queleia to Kirk. And so it went until finally Siegmeyer offered his hand to Eingyi, who shook his head. "I'm afraid I must refuse."

Garret frowned, but it was Queleia who spoke, asking, "What do you mean?"

"My Lady," he shuffled closer to the Daughter of Chaos, "I owe you a grand debt for all you've done for me and those like me. Healing us when we'd given up to despair. Even when your own health took a drastic turn, you still sought to help us." He smiled, a misshapen, crooked thing, but a smile all the same. "And now, you are healthy, and have been reunited with your loved ones!" His smile lessened a touch, "You need not burden yourself with our plight any longer."

Queleia's own spidery lower half was much less independent than Quelaag's, even after her health improved. Still, the best crooned softly as Queleia bent down and wrapped the infected man in a fierce hug. "You were never a burden, Eingyi," she whispered. She pulled back, still holding onto him "There will be a place for you—all of you—with us," she promised.

Eingyi's eyes watered, but he held firm. "I've no doubt, My Lady. But we already have a place, here." He pulled away, wiping his eyes as he shuffled away from the others. Though he did stop in front of Kirk, saying, "You had better not grow lax in your duties simply because I am no longer there to remind you of them."

Kirk grunted. "…Take care of yourself, Eingyi".

Garret waited another moment, and when no one else had anything to say, whisked them away in the flames.

/+/+/+/+/

A/N: We know next to nothing about Titanite. It's didn't sink in until writing this chapter, but there's practically nothing. Three games in which it's the central upgrading material, and almost nothing on its true origins. Never change, Miyazaki! Be sure to leave a review. Later.