It was hard to remember much about his past or even why he had come here, but he did recall the path that lead him here.

"Perhaps you've seen it, maybe in a dream. A murky, forgotten land..."

He was clothed in linen wrappings from head to toe to stave off the elements. It obscured his features with its protective coverings. To another person he'd just be a simple, lost wanderer, a stranger with no purpose.

The trees surrounded him like wolves cornering prey, helpless prey. Rain pouring down heavily as he trudged through the bogged forest, the land seemed to go against his every movement, resisting him, rejecting him for what he'd become. It was too much for his fracturing existence to bear, he simply wanted to rest, was that so hard to ask?

Yet, even as he fell on his knees, and his stomach, the urge to go forward remained. The bogged rainwater mixed with soil to create viscous mud, filling his already filthy rags with more dirt. He was tired, restless, uncomfortable, and hungry all at the same time. The water seemed cold, he couldn't feel cold at all…

"A place where souls may mend your ailing mind."

A vision filled his mind, even as his limbs tried their best to push his body upwards. A barren room, a rocking chair, wooden floor boards, a decrypt wooden door and, a woman with caring features only partly obscured from the hooded cloak she wore, her gaze focused upon a new-born cradled in her arms and wrapped carefully in linen. The details were fuzzy, grey and unclear, but something inside of him told him that this scene was important to him. He needed to grasp it and never let go…

"You will lose everything, once branded. The symbol of the curse, an auger of darkness. Your past, your future, your very light."

The image melted away even as he tried to grasp it, its significance sifting through his fingers as if liquid. He knew then that something had been lost, and to find it, he needed to move forward. He needed to continue moving…

"None will have meaning, and you won't even care. By then, you will be something other than human. A thing that feeds on souls, a hollow."

The withered old lady told of the prophecy even as he reached for the door. She continued her prophesizing, her weaving of threads, with fingers guided by wisdom and experience rather than sight.

She stopped her looming, raising her head to face him with eyes that clearly functioned no more, and told of a tale…

"Long ago, in a walled off land far to the north. A great king built a great kingdom. I believe they called it Drangleic. Perhaps you're familiar. No, how could you be... But one day, you will stand before its decrepit gate, without really knowing why."

He rowed robotically over the still waters of the lake, its serenity leaving an air of forlornness about it. Ahead of him was his destination, a ruined arch of what must have been a wondrous gate. Its very presence made him imagine what Drangleic looked like in its prime: artistically carved towers made from stone, a castle built into a vast mountain, surrounded by a majestic view and perhaps even its namesake: Dragons.

The sky was cloudy though, almost hiding most of the blood-red mood from view, but as he got off upon the bone-yard grounds, the clouds parted. In its sinister light, a beautiful sight was beheld onto him at the centre: a barren tree with fire flies acting as its leaves.

The fireflies flew around randomly and some even landed upon him curiously, creating a calming view. This was not to last, however, as they began to fly in a massive swarm, through the gate-less arch, somehow lighting the torches at its side as they flew by.

Suddenly, the calm had erupted into a storm of skeletal phantoms, flying past from within the lake and through the gates towards him. They were frightening to behold, but the urge had manifested to an unbearable level. He had to move on.

He had to pass through the ghostly horde flying past him.

"Like a moth drawn to a flame, your wings will burn in anguish. Time, after time."

The little boat he'd come onto the island with was consumed by the raging whirlpool that had appeared just at the ledge. It was violent and dark, but the fireflies had flown deep into that dark, watery abyss with little care.

His light had been dropped into the darkness. He'd get it back no matter what.

He jumped into that dark abyss, without a second thought of his survival.

"For that is your fate. The fate of the cursed."

Not like it mattered anyways…

He was already dead.