Years ago, Kindly Miquella divested himself of his mortality and threw it into a chasm. Along with his mortality, he abandoned his humanity, and his love. From his losses, you were born. In Miquella’s image, but with your own uniqueness, like your sleepiness, and your love for anything and everything. If it was human, you loved them and wanted to marry them. Not human? You still adored the object.

There, you had made sleep magic, and although there was no one to receive it or learn it, it still somehow made its way to the Land of Shadow, and the Lands Between. And to keep you company, you made yourself a friend, literally. The Putrescent Knight.

Hera panted as the agile Putrescent Knight fell and turned to ash. She sat back and took deep breaths, although the stench of putrescence was quick to fill her lungs. But she didn’t care. After so many deaths, it was dead, and she was free. The stench was starting to die down anyway. For some reason, she could feel herself getting tired, her eyes slowly closing.

You quietly awakened from your beloved slumber, staring at the Tarnished who felled your friend. You crawled over tiredly, too sleepy to make yourself actually stand, and approached the Tarnished.