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Pocket Sized Witch Part 2
🕑 Added 2026-01-03 00:39:30 +0000 UTCRanni stared at the endless sea of putrid red sand that stretched before them, littered with scattered army remnants, sun-bleached bones, and broken weapons half-buried in the rot. The corrupted expanse ended only where it met the tainted waters beyond, their surface gleaming with an oily, unnatural sheen that caught the sickly light.
"'Tis a graveyard without end," she murmured, her tiny voice carrying a weight of profound sorrow. "Every grain of sand here was once part of Caelid's glory, the verdant fields, golden grasses, life in abundance. And now... now the land remembers what it once was, even as it decays into this festering nothingness. The very earth weeps, though it hath no tears left to shed."
Her Tarnished remained silent beneath her, his jaw set as he gazed across the wasteland with grim determination. She took his silence as an invitation to continue.
"My brother's war gift to Malenia the Severed," she added bitterly, "and hers to him in equal measure. Two foolish demigods locked in eternal stalemate, their prideful clash poisoning the very earth itself for generations yet to come. 'Tis a testament to the futility of the Golden Order's endless wars, to the madness that consumeth all who—"
The blaring of a war horn cut through her words, echoing across the diseased landscape from the distant fortress of Redmane Castle.
Then came the war cries; a cacophony of voices rising from every direction, accompanied by the trembling of earth and the rattling of broken armor stirring to unnatural life. The sound built like thunder, rolling across the scarlet sands in waves of savage determination and desperate loyalty.
Ranni's ethereal gaze swept across the horizon, taking in the silhouettes of an assembled army materializing from the wastes like vengeful spirits. Undead warriors on foot, their armor corroded but weapons still sharp. Cavalry atop both alive and rotting steeds that should not be able to bear their weight. And even one of those curious living jars bouncing among the ranks —all charging in perfect unison toward a common enemy.
All to honor their general. All to grant a dignified death to the one who was once the greatest and most honorable warrior in the entirety of the Lands Between.
For a fleeting moment, Ranni pictured Blaidd among them—her loyal shadow racing across the sands with his great sword raised high, howling his battle cry to the blood-red sky with that fierce joy he brought to every fight. He would have loved this spectacle—a true warrior's festival, the kind of glorious combat he lived for, where skill and courage mattered more than politics or scheming.
But that would never be. Could never be. Not anymore.
The thought pierced through her like a blade of ice, and she forcibly pushed it away, her small hands tightening in her Tarnished's hair as if anchoring herself against the oncoming tide.
"Go, my dear consort," she commanded. "Show them the strength of the one I have chosen. Prove thyself worthy of the path we walk together."
He nodded once then whipped Torrent's reins with a sharp cry. The spectral steed surged forward with a defiant whinny, joining the tide of warriors charging toward the fog-shrouded beach where legend and madness waited.
That’s when a massive bolt of purple lightning struck beyond the fog wall, illuminating the darkness for a brief, terrible moment. The crackling energy painted the sky in violent shades of amethyst before fading.
Then came the arrows, though to call them arrows was a profound understatement. These were thick spears of metal, each one large enough to impale a horse and rider together, fired with such force that they whistled like screaming souls as they descended.
The first volley descended like falling stars.
Warriors disappeared in explosions of sand and bone as the projectiles found their marks, obliterating those unlucky enough to be in their path. Craters appeared in the charging line where soldiers had been moments before, their bodies reduced to little more than red mist and shattered armor.
But the charge did not falter. Did not slow.
The second volley fell like divine retribution, cutting down another swath of fighters.
Then the third, leaving more gaps in their ranks that were quickly filled by those still standing.
The fourth volley finally ceased, and Ranni quickly calculated the losses. A third of the assembled force had been destroyed before they could even reach her brother.
But that grim arithmetic died in her mind as the fog parted and they finally caught sight of him.
General Radahn stood like a mountain made manifest, his massive frame silhouetted against the sickly sky. Even from this distance, even diminished by rot and madness, even reduced to a mindless beast that devoured the corpses of friend and foe alike, he was terrible to behold. His armor, once resplendent, was now corroded and cracked. His flesh showed signs of the scarlet rot's corruption. But still he stood, defiant against fate itself along his beloved but exhausted steed.
In his hands, he gripped two colossal curved great swords, each weapon larger than most men and wreathed in gravitational energy that warped the very air around them.
For a single, frozen moment, he simply held them aloft—a general surveying his battlefield one last time.
Then he slammed both blades into the sand.
And the world exploded.
Gravity itself shrieked and twisted as purple-black energy erupted from the impact point, expanding outward in a devastating wave of distorted space. Warriors were pulled from their feet as if invisible hands had seized them, crushed by impossible weight that turned bone to powder, or flung skyward. The very air seemed to scream as her brother's signature sorcery; once so elegant and precise, now so brutal and uncontrolled, reshaped reality around him according to his maddened will.
And through it all, Radahn stood at the epicenter of chaos, a mad god wielding the very stars as weapons against those who dared approach his domain.
Ranni's grip on her Tarnished's hair became almost painful as she watched her brother's display of terrible, beautiful power, the same gravitational mastery he had used to hold back the very stars themselves, now turned toward simple slaughter.
"'Tis been far too long, brother mine," she whispered, her voice barely audible even to herself over the roar of battle and the screaming of torn reality. "Since last we stood beneath the same sky, since last I beheld thy strength with mine own eyes. I... I wished to see thee at least once more, before the end. To remember thee as thou wert—proud, mighty, honorable. Not this... not this hollow mockery that wears thy face."
Her voice cracked on the last words, a rare display of emotion that she would never have permitted in her full form.
"Forgive me, Radahn," she breathed, so quietly that even the wind could not carry it away. "Forgive me for what must be done."
Then debris and chunks of earth started falling toward them like meteors, torn from the ground by Radahn's gravitational fury.
The Tarnished whipped the reins again with a desperate cry, urging Torrent to gallop even faster as they charged directly at the demigod. The spectral steed responded with everything he had, hooves barely touching the corrupted sand as they raced forward.
Soon after, their fellow fighters launched their own attacks in a coordinated assault. Archers loosed volley after volley of arrows that merely bounced harmlessly off the general's corrupted armor. Battle mages hurled spells from every direction—glintstone shards, flame bursts, lightning bolts, all striking with explosive force yet achieving little. And those warriors too impatient or too brave to wait threw themselves directly at the general's massive legs, desperately trying to cut or stab through his defenses.
Her consort unsheathed his longsword and went for a strike against the ankle, but the blade simply bounced off the ancient armor with a jarring clang.
Radahn responded with a wide, sweeping attack, his twin blades carving arcs of gravitational energy that shook fighters off like insects. Thankfully, her beloved Tarnished was able to dash away just in time, Torrent's quick reflexes saving them from being crushed.
"Thy weapon lacketh sufficient strength!" Ranni shouted over the chaos, her tiny voice somehow cutting through the din of battle. "Hold thy blade steady!"
She immediately began channeling her sorcery, what little power she could muster in this diminished form. The Tarnished's longsword suddenly erupted with beautiful pale moonlight, the cold lunar glow enveloping the blade.
"Now! Try again, my champion!"
Turning Torrent around, he charged once more, yanking hard to the side as one of Radahn's massive swords came crashing down. The impact hit the ground with such force that it sent sand and earth exploding outward in a violent geyser.
More and more warriors started piling onto the general's body, climbing him like mountaineers scaling a living fortress. Swords bit into joints, spears jabbed at weak points, magic crackled against his armor in desperate fury.
It was a maelstrom of violence.
But the two of them remained focused. As her Tarnished got close, he slashed at Radahn's leg again with the moonlight-enhanced blade. This time it made contact—a proper cut that carved through the corroded armor and bit into flesh beneath.
The wound didn't bother the demigod in the slightest. He didn't even seem to notice.
However, Ranni felt the air shift—that familiar crackle of building energy that made her ethereal form tense with alarm. She yanked his hair hard, her voice rising to a shriek.
"Run away! Jump! Anything! NOW!"
He obeyed without question, wheeling Torrent around and spurring him into a desperate retreat.
And none too soon.
The air around Radahn crackled and sparked as lightning began to form, purple energy dancing across his massive frame like living serpents. Then he let out a deafening roar as he exploded outward with raw gravitational force.
Warriors were thrown away like ragdolls, their bodies tumbling through the air. Even Torrent stumbled as the shockwave hit them, the spectral steed fighting to keep his footing against the invisible wall of force. And if that wasn't enough, Radahn channeled the released energy into waves of crushing gravity that swept across the battlefield, targeting the ranged fighters who thought themselves safe.
"Come on, Torrent!" the Tarnished urged, striking the reins.
The loyal steed snorted with determination and charged forward again, building speed before making a tremendous leap. They soared higher than should have been possible, then used Radahn's own massive body as a springboard to gain even more height. At the apex of their jump, her consort struck true—a decent cut across the general's shoulder that actually drew blood.
They landed hard and quickly backed away as Radahn's hand swept toward them.
"Ranni, don't you have more magic?!" he shouted desperately, dodging another crushing blow.
But Ranni's mind raced as she calculated their chances. By simple attrition, they would lose. Her brother's power was too vast.
"Nay!" she called back, frustration clear in her voice. "My sorcery at this size cannot be truly effective—I can merely aid thee, grant thee edges where I may!"
She was already channeling another spell, this one wrapping around her Tarnished's legs and Torrent's hooves with wisps of pale blue light. His movements suddenly became faster, more fluid, as if the very air offered less resistance.
And it was in perfect time.
Leonard, Radahn's impossibly small steed, suddenly neighed and started galloping. The general charged toward another cluster of fighters with both swords raised high, and with his gravity-enhanced speed, he reached the mages before they could scatter.
He swung down with both blades.
The group simply ceased to exist, reduced to red mist.
The original army that had numbered in the hundreds was now merely a scattered group, their ranks decimated.
However, another blaring horn echoed across the wasteland from multiple directions, followed by rallying cries that rose like thunder.
Reinforcements were arriving.
Fresh warriors poured onto the beach from every direction, more undead soldiers, more cavalry, more battle mages ready to throw themselves at the festival.
"Come on!" the Tarnished shouted. "We have to keep fighting! We can't let their sacrifice be for nothing!"
Ranni gripped his hair tighter, her tiny form trembling—not with fear, but with the effort of maintaining her spells while watching her brother's rampage.
"Aye," she whispered, channeling what power she could into her consort's blade once more. "We shall see this through to its bitter end. For his honor. For his peace."
For goodbye, she thought, but could not bring herself to say aloud.
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They were running as fast as Torrent could manage, Radahn in hot pursuit like a force of nature given purpose. Occasionally they had to dodge as massive rocks were hurled at them by his sorcery, the boulders flying through the air at impossible speeds. Ranni held her tiny hat with all four hands, her small form pressed low against her man’s head to avoid being swept away by the wind.
The reinforcement waves had dried up after the fourth assault, their numbers exhausted by Radahn's overwhelming power. Now only a handful of warriors remained on the field and much to her surprise, that curious giant living jar was still somehow in the fight, bouncing determinedly across the corrupted sand despite its cracked exterior.
And now her champion had become living bait, drawing Radahn's attention away to give the other survivors time to gather their wits and perhaps mount one final assault.
"He prepareth something!" Ranni shouted suddenly as her brother became completely engulfed in writhing purple-black gravity sorcery, the energy crackling and building around his massive form. "Brace thyself for—"
But much to her surprise, he didn't attack them. Instead, he shot straight up into the sky with such force that the ground beneath him cratered. Then he was gone, disappearing completely into the blood-red clouds above.
Her Tarnished yanked hard on Torrent's reins. They skidded to a halt and turned around to face where the general had stood moments before; now just an empty crater surrounded by confused, exhausted warriors.
Even the other fighters had stopped, looking around in bewilderment at their enemy's sudden disappearance.
Yet soon enough, Ranni felt the air begin to crackle with building energy. She looked up, and felt her doll body chill, something that should not have been possible, as she saw the sky itself burning, a massive meteor wreathed in purple flames descending straight toward them.
"RUN!" she shrieked with every ounce of volume her tiny form could muster. "RUN NOW!"
And so he did, spurring Torrent desperately as they tried to escape the impact zone. The other fighters scattered in all directions.
But it was all too late.
The artificial meteor crashed into the land with the force of divine judgment, and the world simply exploded. Everything erupted outward in devastating ripples and waves of sand, rocks, bodies, all thrown. Even with all of Ranni's enchantments layered upon him, it wasn't enough to escape the blast radius.
They were caught in the shockwave, sent flying like ragdolls through the air.
And by the catastrophic forces at work, Ranni was ripped from her perch. The hair she had been desperately gripping tore free from her grasp. She shot her four tiny arms out frantically, trying to catch hold of anything, his cloak, his armor, even just another strand of hair but found only empty air.
She watched helplessly as they were thrown away from each other, her small form tumbling through the chaos while her Tarnished was flung in another direction entirely. Even Torrent, faithful to the very end, finally reached his limit and vanished in a shimmer of spectral light, recalled to rest.
Her Tarnished whipped his head around mid-flight, desperately reaching out toward her small, tumbling form. Their eyes met for one fleeting moment and she could see his concern while hers with helpless frustration but it simply wasn't meant to be.
The forces at work were too great, the distance too vast.
Then gravity reclaimed them both.
Ranni hit the sand and rolled violently, her white dress tearing on rocks and debris. Her beloved hat was completely destroyed, reduced to tatters that scattered in the wind. When she finally came to a stop, her long blue hair was matted and full of red sand, her tiny dress in ruins and one arm broken.
Yet slowly she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. Her doll body didn't feel pain as flesh would, but the impact had rattled her consciousness, left her disoriented and struggling to process what had happened.
She checked her surroundings with growing dread.
There was nobody standing anymore. Not a single warrior remained upright on the blood-soaked beach.
And right at the center of the fresh crater stood her brother astride Leonard, both massive swords held aloft in triumph. He threw his head back and gave a victorious roar that echoed across the wasteland.
The festival had come to an end.
And they had lost.
Ranni's small hands clenched into fists in the sand, her tiny form trembling with frustration, grief, and shame. All those warriors, all that sacrifice, and still—
But then she heard it. That all-too-familiar war cry, hoarse but defiant, rising from somewhere across the crater.
She whipped her head in the direction of the sound, and felt her metaphorical heart surge with fierce joy and pride as she saw her champion charging forward. His armor was dented and covered in sand, blood streaming from a cut above his eye, but his weapon was still firmly in hand.
He had survived. And he wasn't giving up.
“Show him, my dear consort! Show him what it meaneth to be Elden Lord!"
Even if her brother could not hear reason anymore, even if this would end in tragedy, at least her Tarnished would face it standing.
The Tarnished charged forward with his war cry still echoing across, and Radahn responded in kind. The general spurred Leonard forward, both massive great-swords raised high as he thundered toward this final challenger.
The twin blades came crashing down with enough force to split the earth itself, but the Tarnished rolled out of the way at the last possible moment. Before Radahn could recover, he leaped onto the flat side of one of the enormous curved great-swords and began running up its length as if it were a ramp, using his momentum to climb toward the general himself.
Radahn immediately tried to shake him off, swinging the blade violently through the air. The Tarnished held on with desperate determination, his fingers finding purchase in the ornate engravings of the weapon. Gravity magic rained down around him—crushing waves of purple energy that threatened to pull him from his precarious perch—but still he climbed.
Ranni watched with her breath caught in her throat, her tiny hands pressed against her chest as if she could somehow will him strength through sheer force of emotion.
Higher and higher he climbed, weathering blast after blast of gravitational fury, until finally he reached Radahn's massive shoulders. Without wasting a single second, he drove his moonlight-wreathed blade down with his own defiant roar. All his strength, all his will, all his purpose focused into that single strike.
Ranni felt a sharp pang pierce through her chest as the sword went through, the blade sinking deep into her brother's skull. The impact knocked the great horned helmet free, sending it tumbling to the sand below with a heavy thud.
And then everything became silent.
Time itself seemed to freeze. In that moment of terrible, beautiful stillness, Ranni watched in slow motion as the great general—Starscourge Radahn, mightiest of Radagon's children, the warrior who had held back the very stars—slowly fell to the side.
His massive body crashed onto the earth, raising another thick cloud of red sand and dust. Ranni covered herself with her small hands against the wave of debris, and when it finally dissipated, she saw her consort on his knees before the fallen demigod who had finally, mercifully, found rest.
For a moment, she simply stared. Then her tiny legs began to move.
"Tarnished!" she called out, her voice breaking as she ran as fast as her diminutive form could manage across the corrupted sand. "My dear Tarnished!"
Eventually he heard her desperate cries and turned around. Despite his injuries, despite the blood streaming down his face and the exhaustion weighing on his limbs, he showed her a warm smile. He stumbled and limped toward her, each step clearly causing him pain, before finally kneeling down and offering his open hand.
She quickly stepped onto his palm without hesitation.
"Take me to him," she said quietly, her ethereal voice thick with emotion she could no longer hide. "Please. I must... I must say farewell."
He nodded wordlessly and carried her to Radahn's head, gently placing her down on the sand beside her brother's still face.
Ranni walked forward slowly, her tiny steps bringing her to stand before the visage she had not seen in so very long. Even in death, even corrupted by rot and worn by madness, she could still see traces of the brother she had once known—the proud general, the dutiful son, the one who had loved his scrawny horse with such fierce devotion.
"'Tis done, dear brother," she whispered, her small hand reaching out to touch his cheek; a gesture so tiny it seemed almost meaningless against his massive form, yet carried infinite weight. "Thy long torment hath reached its end at last. No more shalt thou wander these blighted lands in mindless hunger. No more shalt thou suffer the indignity of madness wearing thy noble face."
Her voice wavered, and for once she did not try to steady it.
"I... I am sorry. Sorry that it came to this. Sorry that our paths diverged so completely, that we could not find common ground before the world fell to ruin. Thou wert ever the dutiful one, the honorable one, whilst I..." She paused, her hand trembling against his cold cheek. "Whilst I chose defiance over duty, rebellion over honor."
She gently moved her tiny hands to close his eyes, a final act of mercy and love.
"But know this, Radahn—thy purpose was fulfilled magnificently. Thou held back the very stars themselves, defied fate with thy strength alone. And now... now I shall continue walking the path I chose, the dark path that shall upend all that came before. Mayhaps, in the new age to come, such tragedies as befell thee shall be no more."
She leaned forward and pressed her small forehead against his cheek in a gesture of farewell.
"Rest now, brother mine. Thy war is finally over."
Thunder suddenly rumbled overhead, forcing both Ranni and the Tarnished to look up at the sky.
Purple lightning crackled across the heavens, and through the blood-red clouds, they could see it—points of light beginning to move, to fall, to rain down upon the Lands Between.
"The stars," Ranni breathed, her voice filled with awe and wonder. "The stars are falling at last. Without the great general to hold them in place, they descend upon the land once more. The very cosmos itself payeth tribute to his passing."
Her Tarnished had already sat down beside her in the sand, his body finally giving in to exhaustion. He gently picked her up, and she didn't resist or protest as she let herself be placed back atop his head where she belonged.
Together, they watched the falling stars paint trails of light across the darkening sky—streaks of silver and gold against the crimson, a celestial farewell to the one who had defied them for so long.
"'Tis beautiful," Ranni murmured softly, her tiny hands no longer gripping his hair for stability but resting gently, almost affectionately. "After all the death, all the sorrow, all the madness... there is still beauty to be found in this broken world."
The Tarnished said nothing, but his hand came up to gently cup around her small form; not restraining, but protective.
Comforting.
And so they sat together amid the carnage of the festival, watching the stars fall like tears from heaven, bearing witness to the end of an age and perhaps, just perhaps, the beginning of something new.
The Starscourge was no more.
But the stars themselves had been set free at last.
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AN: A little late but here more smol Ranni for you.
