Drangleic, a Kingdom keen to kill me. A vicious locale I’ve died within countless times. But no amount of abuse will cause me to lose the fervid fondness I hold for it, nor has it dissuaded me from continual excursions.
It has an allure I can’t resist, a bittersweet attraction that draws me in. It’s a land close to death, but within can be found traces of a life once more than a constant sorrow. A life I’ve never known, and yet, I mourn the loss of it. I lament the fact I’ll never see what once was, and born in this lamentation is the insatiable desire to hold on to what remains.
A derelict town that serves me with an odd sense of comfort, a cast of memorable characters who thwart the loneliness the road induces, vistas so beautiful one could become entranced in them for hours on end; even the most hostile and vile of locations the land offers, it’s hard to stomach the idea of a future in which it all surrenders to the slow death that’s started to consume it.
Nevertheless, I’m afraid I’m defenseless to avert such a dreadful end, and fate cares not to comfort me. As Drangleic is destined to die, so too am I destined to face a senseless decision. Restore the flame or let it dwindle; this land will meet the same end.
But there is one small measure of solace in defiance. Abandon the flame, ensure an existence outside of it, and in this existence, search for true liberation from the curse. Even an act of rebellion can’t save this land, but, in some sense of the word, it’ll never fade, at least not without a trace. If I remain, so will it, remembered until the end of time.
