Afterward, he made his way with practiced ease to the ruined Church of Elleh. He exchanged a few casual words with the rare Nomadic Merchant there, then "infiltrated"—which in practice meant single-handedly crushing—every minor enemy along the road.
At last, he arrived before Stormgate, at a hidden Site of Grace known to few.
He sat before the golden light of Grace and waited quietly.
And waited.
After an indeterminate stretch of time, a gentle voice drifted into his ears.
"Greetings… you who have crossed the fog."
A woman stood before him, appearing without sound.
She was wrapped tightly in a dark gray cloak, as if sealed within layers of cloth. Even her face was obscured beneath a broad hood.
"I am Melina… I would like to propose an accord."
She knelt gracefully by the flickering light, then removed her hood.
Her beautiful face was revealed.
At the sight of her, a faint smile touched his lips.
Finally.
The one who was not good with words, yet had given so much for him. His guide. The one who granted him strength.
His first wife.
If he had never met Melina, he would never have become who he was now.
Of course, he loved Ranni as well—the aloof, prideful Ranni who pretended at dignity while hiding her shy heart.
He was, after all, rather generous with his affections.
"…Are you familiar with Finger Maidens?" Melina asked.
Under her calm gaze, he nodded lightly, that same faint smile lingering.
She's just as beautiful as ever…
Her chestnut hair fell in soft, shoulder-length waves. Her delicate features bore almost no expression, as if joy, anger, sorrow, and delight did not belong to her.
Her tone was even and emotionless.
And yet—there was gentleness beneath it.
For reasons unknown, her left eye remained closed.
Across every cycle, he had never once seen it open.
Just as Ranni's right eye never opened.
Speaking of Ranni—he had long noticed the similarities between them.
Both existed as spirits, having lost their physical forms.
He did not know how Melina had lost hers, though fragments of memory suggested she had once been burned. Faint scars marked her pale hands.
Yet no matter how many times he searched, he had never found her remains.
And on her closed left eyelid lay a blue mark shaped like a claw—three prongs.
Surely it was connected to the Three Fingers and the Frenzied Flame.
Perhaps it was because of that mark that she could kindle the Erdtree.
This speculation had arisen from fragments of knowledge he had gathered about the Frenzied Flame.
Otherwise, how could he have trusted Shabriri so easily?
"…You are without a Finger Maiden," Melina continued. "I can play that role in her stead. I can turn runes into strength for you."
"In return, I ask that you bring me to the foot of the Erdtree. Will you agree?"
The familiar proposal.
His smile shifted—faintly mischievous.
He decided to tease her.
A small repayment for the future burden of becoming kindling.
"I think I'll pass."
"…."
Melina fell silent.
A flicker of surprise crossed her gaze.
She did not understand why she had been refused.
After a long pause, she inclined her head.
"…Very well. If you harbor doubts, I will not force you."
"But you will require such an accord. When that time comes, call upon me at a Site of Grace."
With that, her form dissolved into motes of light.
Just as he had expected.
Though he had never refused her before, he knew how she would respond.
Melina would never abandon him.
He had no idea where that confidence came from.
After a short while, he spoke her name again.
"Melina?"
"…Have you reconsidered?"
She appeared once more, ghostlike.
Right. She was literally a ghost.
"Ah—no. I just wanted to see if calling you worked."
"…I see. Then summon me again when you change your mind."
She vanished.
"Melina?"
"…Have you reconsidered?"
"No."
This exchange repeated six or seven times.
"Melina?"
"…."
No response.
"Miss Melina, are you there?"
"…I am. What is it?"
She reappeared.
Though her expression remained composed and her tone steady, a quiet fatigue stirred within her.
What does one do when one meets a slightly unhinged Tarnished?
Asking for advice. Urgent.
"I agree."
"…Very well. When you reconsider, call upon—"
She paused.
"…What did you say?"
He was smiling beneath his helm.
"I said I agree."
"…I thank you. Then our accord is sealed."
She knelt once more.
A weight seemed to lift from her heart. Her tone softened, lightened.
"When you wish to turn runes into strength, simply summon me at a Site of Grace—"
"Wait. One more thing."
She had just begun to rise when he stopped her.
"Is there something else? Or do you wish to convert runes now?"
"No. I want Miss Melina to agree to one more condition."
"…Speak."
For some reason, a faint sense of foreboding stirred in her.
Surely she was imagining it.
"May I have a hug?"
He had thought long and hard about this.
Across more than six hundred cycles, he had never once embraced her.
At most, they had held hands—and even that had been purposeful.
He had fought through six hundred cycles for her.
Was one hug truly too much to ask?
"…."
Melina fell silent.
"…If that is your wish."
He froze.
He had not expected her to agree so easily.
If he had known it would be this simple, why had he ever resorted to questionable tactics before?
For the record, Melina seemed immune to such things.
He had tried everything in earlier cycles—hypnotic concoctions, charming talismans. None had worked.
And though she appeared gentle, in battle she was terrifying.
Once, when he had overstepped, she had drawn a dagger and pressed it to his throat before he could even react.
At that point, he had already survived over a hundred cycles. His combat experience was vast enough to defeat Godfrey blindfolded.
Yet he had been completely unable to respond.
And he was no Seluvis, capable of brewing potions that could incapacitate even Empyreans.
…Though perhaps I could trick that old fox into handing over a bottle before killing him?
Even as he stepped into her embrace, he was plotting.
Her arms wrapped around him.
Warm.
Soft.
Light as if without bones.
It was hard to believe this was a spirit's body.
There was a fragrance—subtle, comforting.
He had experienced Fia's embrace before.
But this—
This was different.
This embrace belonged only to him.
"Lord Tarnished?"
After a long moment, Melina spoke softly.
A faint blush had risen to her fair cheeks, though she seemed unaware she had even used an honorific.
"Do not worry, Melina. This time, I will still become Elden Lord."
Resting his head against her chest, he murmured:
"I have found a way. I will not let you die again. I will bring you with me to the throne."
"…Please release me first."
She had caught fragments of his words—words heavy with meaning.
But she could not focus on them.
Something strange stirred within her.
A sensation unfamiliar.
She was only a spirit. By rights, she should not feel such things.
And yet—
She did not dislike it.