When you rest up at the Shrine, as you are won't to do, you don't squat yourself down to the bonfire. Instead, you take the time to head down to the staircase, past the crestfallen warrior and his neverending sneers, and you make yourself comfortable against the mossy pillars. Across from you is a cell, and in the cell is a woman.
The woman is called Anastacia, and she is from Astora.
The woman is a Fire Keeper. She always keeps her head hung low. She does not stand, does not sleep, does not eat, and does not like to speak; not even after you restored her tongue.
You recall first seeing her the day the Crow lifted you from the Asylum and planted you on the Shrine. She sat there, like she does even to this very day. Though you notice that she's very recently become more prone to lifting her head up at you, whenever you arrive. You catch her glances, every now and again; she is not as good at hiding them as she hopes to be.
Her voice is demure. Plain, but soothing. But she fears her tongue, fears her ability to vomit out words, for in her own words, her tongue is impure. She's never said anything to you you'd consider impure, though. She's only ever asked you to leave. You know her pleas are not in ill will, however. If she cared nothing for you, why would she empower your Flasks?
...perhaps she simply feels as though she owes you.
You recall a golden knight, embraced by a goddess of love. One you freed from captivity, because you had the time to do so. You remember sauntering on back from Blighttown, crossing the shortcut found in the Valley of Drakes. You were taken up two separate lifts that you had no idea would return you to the Shrine. You saw her bloodstained garments strewn about, and you felt something strange. A dull, bleak feeling in what you have left for a chest; not burning like a raging fire, just getting colder and colder by the second.
You fought the golden knight in Anor Londo, after defeating the Executioner and the Dragonslayer. You cleaved through him and his companions, and by the end of the fight you could not stop gulping down your Flasks. Yet you reclaimed her soul, and so something in you felt like it was all worth it, in the end.
You could have crushed her soul in your withered hand, taken five Humanity for yourself. You could have left her withered clothes to rot in her cell. There are dozens of bonfires littered throughout Lordran; though the one at Firelink Shrine is convenient, it's not much of a fuss to be without it. With the gear you've equipped, the Hollows brimming near Firelink can barely scratch you. Getting to the Undead Burg and simply lighting the flame there is just one more walk. And you've walked a thousand miles by now, you figure; what's another few?
But for some reason you can't really figure out for yourself, you returned her soul to her. And you heard her voice for the first time. You were certain then and are still certain now that killing the Embraced was worth the ripostes, the backstabs, and all the magic blasting your Hollow hide to smithereens.
The reason why he even took her soul to begin with eludes you. Perhaps his goddess, Fina, demanded a Fire Keeper's soul; was he merely following orders, then? Perhaps he simply desired the Humanity, a reason you can empathize with to some extent. Perhaps he simply wanted to inconvenience you for no reason at all other than his own amusement. Nevertheless, his motives died along with him.
You see her in the cage and something in you wants to bring her out. Smash open the bars and take her by the hand, lead her away from her squalid space and bring her all across the world.
You see it now. You're killing Hollows left and right and kicking their bodies off the ledges. You're in the Undead Burg. You're carving through more infantrymen, your weapons ripping through their blighted flesh. You march atop the bridge and fire arrows at the Hellkite until it swoops down; you cut off its tail and you obtain a Drake Sword, and you cut into the beast again and again until the it dies. You give her the Drake Sword, and you take her with you all across Lordran. Nothing can stand in your way. Not the dying gods, not the everlasting dragons, not the large and lumbering sentinels of Anor Londo.
Nor any of the legends and beasts willing to eat you to the bone. Because you're there, and she's there, and for some reason you feel like that's all you'll ever need.
Silly ideas die the moment they're conceived, of course. She can't leave her cell. No matter how much you know she'd love the outside. The sight of her does not carry the same weight as that of a prisoner does, you think; rather, you're reminded of the many heroes you've encountered throughout this decayed kingdom.
You think of Solaire, staring at the sun and wishing to obtain his own. Seigmeyer, snoring efficaciously outside Sen's Fortress, greeting you jovially and requesting your assistance in some task you both find arduous. Seiglinde, carrying her own greatsword over her shoulder, asking you if you've seen her adventure-loving father. "Trusty" Patches kicking you down a hole and selling you goods, shortly your eventual return and acceptance of his half-hearted apologies.
That man who rescued you from the Asylum; the one whose name you'd never gotten to know. He reminds you of her, most of all. If not for him, you'd still be trapped in a grimy cell and left to rot forever. If not for him, you'd never obtain Flasks. If not for him, you would not even be in Lordran at all.
You would never have even met her.
Unlike those soldiers, unlike those heroes, Anastacia chooses to remain planted on the ground. Which seems obvious. She is, after all, a Fire Keeper; it's not like she can up and leave her bonfire. Yet you know some part of her wants to leave. Wants to see the world. Wants to get out there, like you do; breathe the land in herself. She does not have to stay in a cage. She can stay up there, next to her fire. She can see you come down from the Burg, or rise up from the Catacombs, or emerge from Frampt's bewilderingly nauseous maw.
She'd be there, watching you return. She'd be there, and you would not have to see her always keeping her head down like she'd done something wrong.
"...Frampt has told me of you...," she says suddenly. You immediately sit up and listen. "That you have agreed to Link the Fire." She pauses for a moment, before continuing to speak. "I thank you, sincerely. Finally, the curse of the Undead will be lifted, and I can die human." Another pause. Every second that hangs in the air is like a poison that saps at you. "I am powerless...but I will do all that I can. Please. Save us all."
She could ask you at any moment now.
To smash down the bars. You can do so. You have the strength, the weapons, the patience. You can let her free right this very moment, if you'd like. She would be able to see the world. Like you do. She'd be blessed to see. Blessed to know. Even with everything, you know she would be.
But because she does not ask you, because she looks at you now with half-smiling eyes, because she's finally lifted her head to really get a glimpse of you, you know now that is something you must not do. You nod simply then, for that is all she needs. She nods back, timidly; as though you're some sort of revered figure she daren't take up the time of.
You rise up from the grass, your weapon in your grip, and you are certain now that she need not see the world; for there is one thing and one thing only she wishes. And to give that to her would be the greatest gift you can possibly give.