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She stepped forth in silence, the air warping subtly around her as though reality bent to make way. A young woman of scarce twenty-two winters, pale as milkglass and fine of form, stood with naught but the rustle of her cloak to announce her coming. Her curly brown hair framed a visage both gentle and distant, soft green eyes holding the stillness of deep waters. Below her left eye, a faint tattoo—mark of unknown origin—rested like a tear unshed. She wore a fitted corset beneath a travel-worn cloak, the hem of her dark dress brushing the tops of well-worn leather boots. An Empyrean, imbued with the sacred and the profane, yet marked by solitude.

The Tarnished knelt near the flame, weary from battle, his greatblade laid across his lap. He had not yet seen her.

There he sitteth... another bearer of Grace. His strength is plain, yet strength alone maketh not a lord. Still... he doth burn with that same stubborn fire I have seen before. Mayhap... he shall endure. She thought, taking a closer, her voice calm and measured, like wind through catacombs.

“Thou art Tarnished, art thou not? One who seeketh the Erdtree, yet hath no maiden to guide thy path?”

The Tarnished turned, uncertain—his eyes met hers, and for a moment, saw not a stranger, but a presence from some forgotten dream.

“I am Melina,” she said, bowing her head with courtly grace, “and I would offer thee mine accord.”

I know not whence I was born, nor why fate hath drawn me hither. But the Erdtree calleth to me... and through thee, perhaps I may find the truth Queen Marika hath left behind. A bastard I may be... yet not without purpose. Not wholly... worthless.

The breeze caught her cloak as she stood, tall in poise though small in frame, unflinching before the Tarnished's uncertainty.

“If thou wouldst accept me, I shall be thy maiden. I shall guide thee through the fog, and lend thee strength.”

The golden flame at the grace flickered higher, casting her shadow long upon the stones. And thus began another path through shadow and ruin, the Empyrean and the Tarnished, bound by chance... and perhaps, by fate.