Elden Ring: Tarnished Flame Vyke

He didn't look at her as he walked further inside. Instead, his gaze remained fixed on the altar.

"You know the curse associated with this," she continued, her voice dropping lower, filled with warning. "The Dragon Communion... and the curse attached to it. Are you aware of it?"

He turned to face her, his expression calm. "I know," he said simply. "But I also know how to deal with it."

"And how do you plan to deal with it?" she asked, her tone laced with skepticism. "No one has ever escaped the curse untouched."

"The curse? Don't worry about it. I know how to handle it," he replied, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Don't worry, my little scary knife wife."

Though Nyra's face wasn't visible, he could practically feel the heat rising in her cheeks the moment he said it. 

He could almost picture her scowling, no doubt flushed with embarrassment. She had never liked the nickname, but he couldn't resist teasing her.

"You... You are getting out of hand. Stop calling me that. I'm not scary," she said, her voice tight with annoyance.

He chuckled, still not taking his eyes off the altar.

"Humph. And if you know how to deal with it, then I won't stop. Just don't come to me asking for help if things turn out different."

Nyra's silence was all the confirmation he needed that she was fuming, but it didn't change his mind.

He stepped closer to the altar.

"Don't worry, it will be smooth," he said, his voice low as he took out the heart of Agheel, its dark, smoky surface glistening in the dim light of the church.

The air around them thickened with anticipation as he held the heart in his palm. 

Instead of consuming it as one would expect, he began to channel the Ghostflame into his hand, the eerie light dancing across his fingers, coiling like serpents.

The heart of Agheel pulsed, dragon energy trying to resist the unnatural force, but it was no match for the power of the Ghostflame. 

The flame surged, its ghostly tendrils creeping across the heart, beginning to burn it from the inside out.

Nyra stepped forward, her voice sharp with alarm. "Wait! What are you doing? This isn't the ritual. You're supposed to consume it, not burn it!"

He didn't look at her, his gaze locked onto the heart as the Ghostflame burned hotter, the dragon's magic flaring in opposition. 

The air smelled of searing flesh and charred remnants, the heart starting to crumble as the power of the flame overpowered it.

"What's a dragon heart in front of something like this?" he muttered to himself, the words barely audible as the Ghostflame consumed the essence of the dragon.

As the last remnants of the heart turned to ash, he extended his palm over the pile of smoldering remains. The ashes floated upward, swirling around his hand in a delicate dance, the air thick with the smoldering heat.

He breathed deeply, focusing on the essence of the dragon, its power now merged with the flames of the Ghostflame. His hand moved, shaping the energy of the ashes, pulling its raw power into his very being. 

The flames of the Ghostfire twisted and warped, but he held them steady, molding them into a more refined form. 

His control over the flames sharpened, and a wave of energy washed over him as he absorbed the power of the ashes.

Nyra watched in stunned silence as he finished, his eyes now glowing with a new intensity.

Finally as his eyes opened he looked at the ghostflame in his hand which he has more control of and more proficinecy and more destrcutive power..

Nyra steeped forward cheeking if he was injured or not after checking he was abosulty fine she looked at him

"How did you manage to burn a dragon heart?" she asked, her tone sharp. "Especially one related to fire… that should've been impossible."

He looked at her smiling "If you give me a kiss then i would tell you"he said to her.

Nyra stared at him, disbelief flashing across her face. "You—"

He raised an eyebrow, still holding the Ghostflame in his hand, its ethereal light dancing like the fire of an otherworldly furnace. 

"If you give me a kiss," he repeated, his voice smooth and full of mischief, "then I'll tell you."

Nyra's expression hardened. She crossed her arms, her sharp gaze piercing him as if she were contemplating whether to throw him into the sea.

 "You're impossible," she muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

He chuckled. "I'm serious, Nyra. The information comes at a price."

"Humph. Alright, just don't get any ideas. I'm just doing this to get the information," she said, her voice a little sharper than before.

She pulled back her hood, revealing her beautiful face. He caught the slight flush on her cheeks—was she embarrassed?.

With a swift, but gentle motion, she grabbed his head and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Her lips lingered for just a moment before she pulled back, her gaze now a little more guarded.

He stood frozen for a second, his mind struggling to process the unexpected gesture. 

The warmth of her kiss lingered on his skin, and a strange quietness filled the space between them.

"Now," she said, clearing her throat, trying to regain her composure. "You promised to tell me everything."

"Okay, okay," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender before continuing. "So, you see the Ghostflame that Deathbirds wield? Where do you think it came from? From what I know, there's an Outer God behind it. The flame originates from that entity."

Nyra's brow furrowed, confusion evident on her face. "Outer God?" she asked, the term foreign to her.