A sun in the colour of nothing gazed down from infernal heights, scorching the heavens a frenzied yellow. The air swam with heat as the inferno spread from the blackened stump of the Erdtree. Summoned forth by vengeance, the flame knew nothing other than destruction. Its nature was dissolution and downfall in the bubbling of flesh; the sizzling of still-living meat being charred against bone, the crumbling of stone and wood to ash. It was a principle of cruel destruction, a blaze that brings ruin to all.
Yet, in the heart of this chaos stands a defiance to the inferno's wrath: the black-burning flame. Unlike its frenzied counterpart, this flame does not consume indiscriminately. It is a controlled, focused fury, a counter to the rampant destruction.
At the center of this resistance is the gloam-eyed maiden. Grievously wounded, her body impaled by the greatsword she refuses to release, she stands as a testament to unyielding will. The frenzied flames, hungry for more devastation, reach for her, only to be stilled and smothered by the black flame she commands. Her presence alone heralds an end, both absolute and final.
The frenzied flame, sensing its imminent demise, seeks escape. It tried pulling away, but its vessel did not respond. A final act of spite from the last, meagre scrap of the man it had devoured. This is what he deserved and what his dear maiden promised to deliver.
Destined Death.
"Don't worry, Torrent, fortune is on his side. We found him here, after all."