She stands, tending to the flames. The empty vast land of Majula has been empty for a time too long. Much of the days spent looking upwards to the orange skies, the Age of Fire once again in risk of fading. The Darksign branding the Undead just as before. She'd seen many come, and many go. The word Monarch, each and every day becoming little less of a title to her and more of another sign to label the Hollows. For though they have gone, they never came back, at least without their sanity intact.

So she waits, the day where the next Monarch would arrive has yet to come, but till that day, here she will remain.

"Have you not grown tiresome? A normal man would've realize the futility of their task long ago."

She turned to the side, and as always a tall monumental structure, a small remembrance of a battle fought not long ago, was there to face her. And underneath it, walks a man. His silver, shining armor of a knight, show signs of dents and bruises, each with a story of their own of encounters he'd face from months and maybe years past. Despite his heavy armor, his head remains exposed, revealing the kind face of a lost soul, now shriveled and dim.

"If one were wise, they'd simply stop."

His boots tread upon the dirt surrounding the Bonfire, encased by rough, jagged rocks of different size and shape. He took a look at her, standing ever so still, her long emerald robe blowing softly in the wind, and sat down on one of the few rocks with a smooth surface.

"It is only logical after all..."

When he received no answer, he turn his attention to the Bonfire. And together they stare into the flames.

A safe haven for the Undead. A sign of solace and comfort in a place so forsaken and treacherous, the Bonfire of Majula acts as a safe retreat for the Undead. A place where one could rest, be at ease, and to collect their thoughts before once again heading out to transverse the land of Drangleic. Many had rested here, and many had been reborn here. She had seen them come and go, and so has he. Like many others, he too found it hard to will himself to go, and soon after, the dangers ahead had finally broken his resolve, and he has been here ever since.

The flames slowly sways and flows, rising high, as if dancing along with the wind. Occasionally, embers would detach from the fire, floating in the air, before slowly disappearing. The knight noticing this, gave an amuse sigh.

"Sadly poetic, is it not?"

She at first couldn't decipher the meaning of his words. Only after seeing a few more embers dissipate did she realize. And she too found it slightly amusing. Though she didn't show it.

"Embers of the fire, souls of men, the differences lay thin."

The knight remained staring at the fire.

"It's dying."

She gave a quick glance at his direction, his posture remains the same as ever, be it on the monument or here. His knees supporting his arms, a hand clasping the other with his face leaning against it. Almost as if in prayer. She too, found that fact amusing.

"A small spark is enough, should the flame fade."

The things she talks of, he knows all too well.

"Where would one find this spark? You've seen many, and many times you've been sure they will be the one. Only to succumbed to the curse, like many before them."

She of course knew of his disdain towards her actions but knew of it as a necessary evil. That is why he does all he can to discourage the Undead to abandon the task of curing the Curse. For he knows that Hollowing is what would come of it in the end, sooner or later. But of course, many shrug him off, thinking of him as a fool to embrace the curse, and look towards her for guidance.

"Undead seek to undo the curse. I seek to bring an end to it. The spark hides in the Undead. And only I can draw it out, if they should let me."

"An Undead, not the Undead. Only one is capable of challenging the Four Great Ones. Someone you have yet to find..." He said.

"Nothing will come out of this. I ask that you not speak of my duty any longer. The Monarch will come, I feel it deep within."

The knight merely shook his head.

"Ahh yes, what is it that you call them... Ahh, Bearer of the Curse, is it not? A rather foul way to brand your Monarchs." and gave a slight chuckle.

She did not find his words amusing, not one bit. Her lips tighen in irritation, only slightly, to not display her true emotions. She waited for him to silence, before speaking once again.

"Need not you forget, that you were once a Monarch as well, crestfallen as you may be."

A sigh escapes his lips, he didn't need to be reminded of it, but realized he had it coming.

"Crestfallen yes, but not Hollow. Better than how most Monarchs wind up being."

That's when She offered her say in the matter.

"All Hollows were once Undead, just like yourself. Helping them on their journey in spite of how hopeless you find it, will differ the outcome of their fate."

He lifted his head, for the first time in their conversation, and stared straight at her. And for once, She was looking right back.

"Could it be that you... are in need of my help?" He asked.

"I only ask that you consider." She said, and turn back to the fire.

He too return to staring at the flames, seriously considering her request. The Curse is something he'd be glad to rid of. But to talk and maybe even help fellow Undead to fulfill this wish, to have hope once again, in a long, long time. Only to see them go Hollow, only to have hope fade away again. Why, is almost as bad as going Hollow himself.

But in spite of this, It couldn't hurt to try, at least once.

So with his mind made up, he slowly got back up and turn back towards the Monument, to where he'll always be, but not before stopping to address Her once more.

"Fine, I'll lend a hand, a word of advice even. But only for the next and no more... Heavens know I'll go mad."

And with that, he set off, back to his original position. Leaving Her alone once again, tending to flames forevermore. Waiting for the day, for when her next Monarch would come.