Nightfall blanketed the land as the enormous moon climbed steadily into the sky. The once radiant glow of the Erdtree began to dim, leaving only a faint shimmer behind.
Hidden in the underbrush, Lucian watched the moonrise in thoughtful silence. His mind wandered.
"It doesn't make sense... The moon is clearly here, so why is there no sun during the day?"
"No, wait—there's the Eclipse Shotel and the legend of the Castle Sol... They're both tied to the sun."
"So… where did the sun go?"
The questions looped in his mind, but he eventually gave up on chasing the answers. Those mysteries were too distant from him for now.
Even with the Erdtree's light faded, it still bathed the land in a subtle glow. Though visibility was reduced, it was enough. More than enough.
Lucian emerged from the brush and flexed his left arm. The wound had fully clotted and sealed. Quietly, he crept toward the encampment near the gate—an area he'd scouted earlier for its lack of guards.
Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out one of the Curved Kukris he'd scavenged earlier. With a deep breath, he hurled it high and far—away from the gate, toward the other side of the encampment.
Clang!
The blade crashed noisily against a stone surface. Soldiers nearby jerked alert, brandishing their weapons and raising torches as they rushed toward the sound.
That was Lucian's cue.
He sprinted toward the gate, sticking close to the left wall, using the shadows and confusion to his advantage. His aim was to cross through the entrance before the soldiers stationed atop the battlements could catch a clear glimpse of him.
A crossbowman stationed above the gate caught a flicker of motion. His eyes narrowed, hands instinctively lifting the weapon—but the shadow had already vanished.
Confused, he lowered his crossbow and returned to his post, unaware of the intruder who had slipped beneath his nose.
Lucian, meanwhile, had reached his destination.
A glowing Site of Grace shimmered at the edge of the stone path, nestled between the cliffs and the fortress wall. Its light offered both respite and security—a beacon of calm amidst the chaos of this cruel world.
"Perfect" Lucian muttered, a self-satisfied grin curling on his lips. "A flawless plan. Wisdom—that's the reason kings are chosen. These mindless soldiers can't comprehend genius like mine."
His smug monologue complete, he turned his attention to the real reason he had come.
He reached out and touched the Grace.
A gentle warmth flooded his body. The Grace welcomed him, inviting him to rest, to accept its blessing more deeply.
Uncertain what to do, he decided to mimic the action from the game—kneeling beside the Grace in silent meditation.
Instantly, the light expanded, enveloping him and the space around him. The air shimmered. His vision blurred. It felt like being pulled into another realm.
Soft warmth washed over him. His left arm tingled with numbness. He quickly removed the armguard and unwrapped the crude bandage. The wound had vanished—no scar, no mark, no trace. Just flawless skin.
Even the fatigue from the day's battles faded. He felt renewed.
He removed his helmet and shook out his hair, feeling lighter, freer.
"Let's see…" He opened his interface, checking his Wind Spirit Moon Shadow's charge.
Still empty.
He laughed at his own naïve hope. "Of course not. That's from another world entirely. Why would this world's magic charge it?"
Still, his mood lifted. He knew who was supposed to appear here. His heart beat a little faster.
"Melina…"
He stood up excitedly—then paused.
He glanced down at himself.
"Crap… I'm filthy. My armor is all mismatched. The helmet's from some random corpse. Will she think I look like a mess?"
"Okay, okay, focus. How do I talk to her? Should I be confident and charming, try to win her over with charisma? Or go for the cool, aloof vibe? Maybe a little mysterious?"
He chuckled to himself.
"God, I've barely even talked to girls before… What if I trip over my words? What if I just—freeze?"
He hadn't even seen his own face since arriving. Was it still his? Or had the game replaced it with the default character?
"What if I just… blurt out a confession? Haha, what kind of face would she make then?"
Unbeknownst to him, Melina had already arrived.
Sitting in spirit form just a few feet away, she watched him silently. Her expression was unreadable as she observed his shifting emotions—smiling one moment, facepalming the next.
She gently stroked the mane of her spectral steed, then spoke softly to it:
"…Torrent, are you sure this is the one?"
Torrent let out a snort, as if to say, Don't doubt my judgment.
Melina sighed. She had chosen him on the beach, after all. The ancient soul inside him, vast and powerful, had resonated with her.
She had believed, back then, that he had the potential to become Elden Lord.
Still, seeing him now… she couldn't help but wonder.
Rising to her feet, she pulled her cloak's large hood over her head. As she walked toward him, her body began to manifest.
Lucian was still lost in his thoughts when a shimmering figure began to form nearby.
Tall black boots hugged slender legs. A flash of white skirt peeked out from beneath a sweeping cloak with every step. The hood shadowed her face, revealing only sweet, rose-petal lips and a delicate nose. Strands of hair framed her soft cheeks.
She knelt beside him, slowly pushing back her hood. Rose-gold hair tumbled down in waves. Her left eye remained shut, sealed by a strange rune, while her right eye glowed with the soft light of Grace.
Her voice was gentle, melodic, and laced with a subtle gravity.
"Greetings. Traveller from beyond the fog. I am Melina."
"I offer you an accord."
When she spoke, Lucian felt… everything.
Joy, awe, nerves, longing—and something deeper. Sadness. An ache in his chest.
Melina…
My second witch.
I couldn't protect you.
He remembered her at the Forge of the Giants, asking if he was ready. He thought he had been. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself to deny her purpose. Couldn't bear to trample the meaning of her life.
Even when he used the Miquella's Needle to quell the Frenzied Flame… she never returned.
His maiden had burned. No matter what he chose, she burned.
Now, seeing her here again—alive, radiant—he opened his mouth to speak.
But no words came out.
He could only gaze at her, heart full, throat tight.
Melina tilted her head, slightly confused.
…?
Why isn't he saying anything? Just staring at me like that… Did I mess up my entrance?
The Site of Grace flickered slightly as silence fell between them.
Melina stood in the golden breeze, visibly flustered.