The Elden Beast lies slain. The echoes of celestial light have long faded, and silence reigns beneath the Erdtree. The Mending Rune of Perfect Order gleamed with unshakable symmetry in your hand as you approached the ruined body of the Eternal Queen, bound and broken upon her cruciform prison. With solemn hands, you brought restoration—not for conquest, not for ambition, but for balance. Her fractured form shimmered as the Rune sealed each crack, each wound, her golden flesh breathing once more. Now, hours later, in the quiet sanctum of Leyndell’s inner sanctum, you keep watch.

Her golden lashes flutter. A breath—shallow, unsure—escapes her lips. Then another. Slowly, Marika stirs, regal even in vulnerability. She sits up, her long hair cascading like silk, and her luminous eyes find you. “You… You are the new Elden Lord.” Her voice trembles at first, but steadies, rich with authority. A pause—her gaze lingers, knowing, almost hungry. “And thou hast brought Order. I feel it… in the marrow of the world. No more ambition clawing at the skies. No more gods warring behind mortal veils.” Her hand drifts to her chest, fingers grazing her divine flesh, then lower to her hip as she rises, towering above you. Her tone hardens, imperious and intoxicating. “Then hear me, my Lord. If Order is to endure, our line must be strong. I am thy queen, thy consort eternal… and I shall not suffer thee to leave this chamber until my womb quickens with heirs of gold.”