The great moonlit halls of the Academy of Raya Lucaria were quiet, save for the faint hum of sorcery emanating from its crystalline structures. Rennala stood at the center of the grand library, her silhouette framed by the pale light of the full moon filtering through the high windows. She clutched a small, intricately carved staff in her hands—a gift from Radagon long ago.

The double doors creaked open, and Radagon entered, his crimson hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. His golden eyes were resolute, though an undercurrent of regret swirled within them. He paused for a moment, taking in Rennala's figure, her grace now shadowed by an air of fragility.

"Thou hast summoned me, Rennala," Radagon said, his deep voice steady but laced with tension.

"Aye, I did," she replied, her voice soft but trembling. She turned to face him, her sapphire eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Why dost thou draw away from me? Why feel I thee slipping from us—from me?"

Radagon's jaw tightened. "Rennala, thou must needs understand… mine own path hath ever been guided by greater things. The Greater Will—"

"Speak no more of the Greater Will!" Rennala's voice rose, the staff in her hand trembling. "Thou useth it as a veil to justify thy desertion of all we hath wrought together! What of our love, Radagon? What of our children?"

Radagon's gaze softened, yet his resolve remained firm. "Our union was not without purpose. By it, strength was forged, and the legacy of our children shall endure. Yet the realm craveth balance. The Erdtree calleth unto me, and I must answer. I have been chosen."

"Chosen," Rennala echoed bitterly. "Chosen to forsake thy family? To forsake me? Is this what thou namest duty?"

Radagon stepped forward, his golden aura pulsing faintly. "It is not mine own choice, Rennala. It is destiny. I have been called to take up the mantle as consort to Queen Marika. Together, we shall forge a new age."

Rennala recoiled as though struck. "Marika," she whispered, the name dripping with venom. "Thus, it is not mere duty, then. Thou wouldst betray me for her?"

"It is not betrayal," Radagon insisted, though his voice faltered. "It is the will of the Greater Will. The paths we tread are not ours to decide."

Tears spilled down Rennala's cheeks as her sorrow turned to anger. "Speak not unto me of fate, Radagon! We hath built here something sacred—a family, a legacy. And thou wouldst cast it aside for some hollow throne?"

Radagon's expression hardened, though regret lingered in his eyes. "I expect not thy comprehension, yet I must go. This shall be the last we meet."

Rennala's grip on the staff tightened as her anger flared, magic crackling faintly in the air around her. "Thou speakest of nobility, as though thou sacrificeth for the greater good. But thou art naught but a craven, fleeing the life we hath built!"

Radagon turned, his steps heavy as he began to walk away. "Farewell, Rennala," he said quietly, not daring to look back.

The doors closed behind him with a resounding finality, leaving Rennala alone in the vast, empty hall. She stood frozen, her breaths ragged, her mind reeling from the weight of his departure.

Her legs buckled, and she sank to her knees, the staff slipping from her grasp and clattering to the floor. She clutched her chest as though to contain the ache threatening to consume her.

The moonlight seemed colder now, its glow casting long, forlorn shadows across the library. Rennala's grief swelled within her, a tidal wave of sorrow that no magic could dispel.

And so, the great sorceress queen, who once commanded the wisdom of the stars, was left shattered—her heart broken, her mind drifting ever closer to the abyss of despair.

Nathaniel returned to the Grand Library of Raya Lucaria, where Rennala sat on her throne, the remnants of her power swirling around her like a fragile, fading aura. The room was eerily quiet, the only sound being the faint hum of ancient magic that had long dominated the academy. His steps echoed as he approached, but his mind was focused.

Rennala, her face lined with the sorrows of her past, looked up at him with weary eyes.

"Queen Rennala," Nathaniel began, "I ain't here to take a throne or become some Elden Lord. I just want to fix things. The Lands Between… they're broken. I need the Great Rune, not for power, but to make things right."

Rennala regarded him silently for a moment, her gaze sharp despite the sadness clouding her expression.

Rennala sat in the dimly lit chamber of her shattered legacy, her once radiant presence now a shadow of its former self. The moonlight streaming through the stained glass painted pale patterns on the floor as she gazed at the remnants of her past—a family torn apart, a love betrayed, a kingdom divided.

Nathaniel stepped forward cautiously, his boots echoing softly against the cold marble. Melina stood a few paces behind him, watching quietly, her expression calm but tinged with sadness.

"Queen Rennala," Nathaniel began, his voice steady but gentle. "I heard about Radagon. About what happened between you two."

Rennala looked up at him, her sapphire eyes heavy with sorrow and weariness. "And what dost thou, a mere Tarnished, knoweth of such loss?" she asked, her voice distant, almost a whisper.

Nathaniel hesitated, the words catching in his throat. For a moment, he glanced back at Melina, who gave him an encouraging nod. Turning back to Rennala, he took a breath.

"I know more than you think," he said quietly. "I've made choices like Radagon's. Choices that left scars I'm still trying to heal."

Rennala's gaze sharpened, curiosity flickering through her grief. "Unfold thyself, Tarnished. What burden dost thou claim to bear?"

Nathaniel pulled a small pendant from beneath his armor—a simple, weathered trinket. He turned it over in his hand before meeting Rennala's eyes.

"Her name was Dianne," he began, his voice laced with regret. "She was my world. Smart, strong, always knew how to make me laugh even when things were falling apart." He paused, the memories flooding back. "But I wanted more. I thought I could protect her better if I left. I convinced myself it was for her own good, that I could come back stronger, fix everything. But in leaving...I broke something I couldn't repair."

Rennala's lips parted slightly, her eyes softening as she listened.

"I told myself it was destiny," Nathaniel continued bitterly. "That I had to leave her behind to fulfill some greater purpose. But the truth? The truth was I was scared. Scared of not being enough. Scared of losing her if I stayed." He clenched the pendant tightly. "And when I finally came back...it was too late. She was gone."

Rennala's shoulders sagged, the weight of his words striking a chord deep within her. "Thou speakest of regret as if it were a thing most palpable," she murmured. "A chain that doth bind thee, as it bindeth me."

Nathaniel nodded. "It is. But it doesn't have to keep us down forever. I've spent years running from that pain, but meeting people like you, like Melina...it's taught me that even in the wreckage, there's a chance to rebuild."

Rennala's gaze flicked to Melina, who stepped forward, her quiet strength emanating from her every movement. "Thy pain diminisheth thee not, Queen Rennala," Melina said softly. "The moon's light may wane, but it ever returneth."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Rennala's lips curved into the faintest of smiles, though it was tinged with sadness. "Thou art bold, Tarnished, to speak so freely of thy wounds," she said to Nathaniel. "Perchance...there is wisdom in thy candor."

Nathaniel offered a small, lopsided grin. "I've been called a lot of things, but wise isn't usually one of them. Just trying to make sense of this messed-up world like everyone else."

Rennala regarded him silently for a moment, her fingers brushing against the fragments of a broken staff at her side. "Perchance there is hope yet," she said softly, more to herself than to anyone else. "For thee...and for me."

Nathaniel's grin softened, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "Maybe, Your Grace. Maybe there is."