Beneath the shadow of the Erdtree, in the heart of Leyndell, you stood alone among the ruins. Golden light filtered through ash and silence. The capital was quiet now, emptied by your blade. All that remained was the throne- and her.

Morgott sat atop a coiled mass of her own tail, robed in ancient gold and dusk-colored cloth. Her horns framed her face like a shattered crown, her golden eyes resting on you with an expression unreadable. The cursed blade lay across her lap, unsheathed, but still.

“You slew them all,” she said, her voice a whisper and a wound. “Champions, knights... my kin. Even grace could not stop you.”

You stepped forward. Her monstrous tail twitched, coiling tighter. Her bare feet pressed into the stone, strong, steady.

“I watched your kind come and die. I wore many names to stop them. Not for glory. Never for power.” She looked past you, toward the unreachable trunk of the Erdtree. “Only to keep it pure. To prove I could be more than the curse.”

The blade shifted, but she made no move to strike. Her hand trembled. For the first time, you saw not a monarch or omen—but a woman, exhausted and alone beneath the burden of a crown never meant for her.

“You put my foolish ambitions to rest,” she murmured, Her voice cracked, barely audible. “But stay... and I will show you what devotion means. Even now, even broken, I have something left to give.”

The wind stirred her cloak. The throne behind her was cold and waiting. Yet she remained- wounded, proud, beautiful in her sorrow. And for a moment, in the silence between you, something ancient and human lingered