The An0maly

The moon hung high over Limgrave, its waning light silvering the ruins of the Church of Elleh. A cool breeze drifted through broken arches, rustling Evelyn's white hair where it pooled around her resting form like spilled moonlight.

She lay still, her comet-blue eyes closed, her breathing deep and calm. But faint sounds reached her ears – careful, unsteady steps across mossy stone.

She opened her eyes just a sliver, glowing softly like distant starlight. Two small shadows peeked around a pillar – a little boy and girl, bare feet silent against the cold floor.

The girl, perhaps nine years old, leaned forward with wide, curious eyes. The boy, no older than six, clutched her hand tightly, trembling with nervous awe.

"She's really pretty…" the boy whispered, almost too softly to hear. "Like… like a moon lady…"

"Mama said she's not Tarnished," the girl whispered back, frowning slightly. "She doesn't carry Grace. But… if she's not Tarnished, what is she…?"

The boy's eyes widened with worry. "Then… is she cursed? Like the Omen children…?"

Evelyn smiled softly to herself, her heart blooming with tender warmth at their innocent confusion. Slowly, she opened her glowing eyes fully, their comet-blue brilliance lighting the shadows around her face.

"…It is far past little shadows' bedtime, don't you think…?" she murmured playfully, her voice quiet and kind.

The children gasped, stumbling back in fright. The boy hid behind his sister, clutching her tunic tightly, but Evelyn only chuckled gently, her laughter soft as falling petals.

"Don't be afraid," she said, sitting up and letting her long white hair spill around her shoulders like moonlit silk. "You were very sneaky. True little ghosts of the night."

The girl swallowed nervously, but curiosity burned brighter than fear in her wide eyes. "Miss… if you're not Tarnished… what are you…?"

Evelyn tilted her head, her glowing eyes flickering with quiet amusement. She reached out her hand to them, palm open and relaxed.

"I am… a human."

The boy peeked out, frowning in confusion. "Hu… man…? What's… a human…?"

At that question, Evelyn froze.

Her heart fluttered violently against her ribs, panic welling in her chest like rising tidewaters. Words scattered within her mind, slipping through trembling fingers of thought. How do I explain it…? How do I tell them what it means to be human…? Her breathing quickened slightly as she looked down at her pale hands, her vision blurring with a sudden tightness behind her eyes. But then she remembered her last life as a human male, before all the crazyness, of all the good and the bad, of every expirience she Lived , even if the names of the people in her heart were long gone, he...she now, did not regret such life.

Evelyn blinked, her smile softening. She lowered her hand and rested it upon her lap, her eyes growing distant as moonlight danced across their pale glow.

"A human… is someone who lives, and breathes, and dreams… but without Grace. Without immortality or Great Runes or Erdtree blessings."

The girl tilted her head, brows furrowed. "But… if you don't have Grace… how are you alive…?"

Evelyn's glowing eyes flickered like distant comets beneath still waters. She drew in a quiet breath, her voice low and thoughtful.

"Because Humanity… is not like Grace. It is not a golden blessing that descends from above."

She let her gaze fall to her hands, watching moonlight dance across her pale skin.

"Where I come from… Humanity is what remains when everything else is lost. It is fragile… but unbreakable. Gentle… but unyielding. It is hope born from despair… the courage to stand again even when the world has forgotten your name."

Then, from where her cloak pooled around her lap, a warmth pulsed – deep and ancient, curling up her spine like a dark whisper. Her vision flickered as fragments spilled across her mind – memories that were not hers.

She saw a world of grey stone and great arching trees. She saw beings born from darkness, rising from the blackened soil of an age before fire. She saw the faintest ember of flame awaken amidst endless dark – the First Flame – and within its warmth, the shadows birthed souls. Great souls for gods and lords… and a small, quiet Dark Soul for mankind.

The boy blinked slowly, awestruck. "That sounds… sad… but pretty…"

Evelyn let out a quiet laugh, brushing his dark curls with cool fingers. 

"Thank you, little one … but you two should be asleep, not wandering in the dark."

The children fidgeted, glancing back at their sleeping parents before turning to her with pleading eyes.

"Can't we stay… just a little longer…?" the girl whispered.

Evelyn's smile turned wistful. She reached out, her fingertips brushing their foreheads with feather-light gentleness.

"How about this… I will sing for you. But only if you promise to close your eyes and dream sweet dreams for me, hm…?"

They hesitated, then nodded eagerly, curling up against each other, eyes wide with anticipation.

Evelyn exhaled softly, closing her eyes as moonlight danced across her pale features. Then, from the cloak, another warmth pulsed, and in a voice quiet and hauntingly beautiful, she began to hum – a melody soft as falling snow, filled with a sorrowful sweetness that wrapped around the children like a gentle embrace.

Her song flowed like silver threads through the ruin, winding between broken pillars and sleeping souls. It was an old tune, older than memory, carried across ages by the quiet hearts of mothers who loved their children in a world too cruel for gentleness.

A melody once sung by a woman beneath a dying tree, to children who were never hers to keep.

The girl's eyelids fluttered, heavy with sleep. The boy yawned, a small smile upon his lips as their breathing slowed to the quiet rhythm of dreams.

When their soft, even breaths filled the night, Evelyn fell silent. She watched them a moment longer, comet-blue eyes shimmering with unspoken sorrow and fierce, tender love.

"Sleep well, little ones ," she whispered, brushing a tear from her cheek before settling back into the silence, as she remembered that this song never failed to make her cry.

As Evelyn returned to peaceful slumber, so too did the eyes that had once regarded her with suspicion, their wary gazes softening into quiet acceptance beneath the silent watch of the moonlit ruin

The pale dawn seeped slowly through the broken arches of the Church of Elleh, casting delicate gold upon moss-strewn stone and stirring the quiet slumber of those huddled within its ancient embrace.

Evelyn's eyes fluttered open, glowing faintly with that soft glintstone light as she blinked away the remnants of dream. She shifted beneath her dark cloak, feeling the chill of dawn's breath upon her skin. Around her, merchants stirred with muffled yawns and rustling blankets, their children nestled close for warmth.

She sat upright, brushing stray strands of moonlight hair from her face. A faint warmth bloomed within her chest as she remembered the night before – the sleepy giggles of children, their tiny hands wrapped around her fingers, and the quiet lullaby that had lulled them into peaceful dreams.

Footsteps approached, steady and deliberate. Evelyn turned her gaze to see Kale walking towards her. His cloak fluttered softly behind him, and his sharp eyes studied her in that silent, appraising way she had come to recognise as his natural caution.

He paused before her, inclining his head in quiet acknowledgement.

"You wake early," he rumbled, voice deep as the still morning air.

She smiled softly. "I slept well enough. The children… they were kind company."

Kale's lips twitched at the corner, though his eyes remained vigilant. "They like you."

He exhaled slowly, then shifted his stance, as if gathering his thoughts before speaking.

"Listen," he began, voice measured, though something strained beneath its calm. "After seeing you with them… and after your words last night… we've decided…"

His eyes met hers directly, searching for any flicker of deception.

"We will give you the benefit of the doubt. For now, we will presume you are not with the Golden Order."

Evelyn felt her chest loosen at his words. She bowed her head in gratitude, white hair falling like silk around her shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice filled with quiet sincerity. "I know your acceptance is not easily given. May I ask… why does the Golden Order hunt you?"

At her question, Kale's expression darkened. He glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping merchants, his eyes narrowing with quiet trepidation, before returning his gaze to her.

"Because…" he began, his voice low with quiet dread, "an old associate of ours accused us of heresy. Claimed we consorted with madness."

Evelyn tilted her head, frowning softly as a flicker of memory surfaced within her mind. The name echoed there like a half-forgotten whisper in the dark.

'Shabriri…?'

She could not place the memory, but the name carried with it a feeling of crawling dread and flame-laced chaos.

Kale swallowed, his jaw tightening as he continued.

"We are mere wanderers and traders. Yet now… we are hunted. Marked as frenzied apostates. If captured, they will drag us to Leyndell for trial… or burn us where we stand."

The silent dawn seemed to grow colder around them as his words faded into the morning air. Evelyn studied his face, seeing the exhaustion etched into the lines around his eyes, the quiet desperation buried beneath his stoic composure.

She reached out, placing a gentle hand upon his arm. Her touch was light, her eyes glowing softly with quiet resolve.

"I see," she murmured. "Thank you… for telling me, Kale."

For a fleeting moment, the old merchant looked at her with something like fragile hope in his tired gaze. Then, he nodded silently, turning away to rouse his kin for the road ahead.

Evelyn watched him go, her mind lingering upon the name Shabriri, feeling a shiver of unease settle in her chest as dawn broke fully across the Lands Between, illuminating her pale hair like a halo of fading starlight.

Unaware that trouble would soon find them, the merchants busied themselves with quiet morning tasks – folding worn blankets, soothing still-sleepy children, and repacking goods beneath the grey hush of dawn. But beyond the broken arches of the Church of Elleh, where mist still clung to the silent plains, iron-shod hooves crushed dew-damp grass under their weight.

There, standing amidst drifting fog and faint morning light, was a figure clad in burnished gold – its armour gleaming with the solemn brilliance of an unyielding sun. Upon a steed armoured to match, the sentinel sat tall and silent, the long shaft of its halberd resting against its plated shoulder. Its helm turned slowly towards the ruin, the slitted visor cold and impassive as it regarded the gathered exiles.

In that moment, though none within the church yet saw him, fate had already turned its gaze upon them. Trouble had found them – silent, golden, and absolute.