Lucian left behind the materials for forging the Dragonslayer Swordspear and carried the rest back to Stormveil Castle. Along with them came three greatswords—already reforged and strengthened, and a suit of Storm Knight armor into which dragon scales had been woven.
Back in the castle, Lucian immediately wrote a letter, entrusting the Stormhawks to deliver it to Blaidd, who was hiding deep within the Mistwoods. The letter briefly explained recent events and expressed his request: he wished to know whether Ranni had any smiths in her service that could be of use. Of course, Lucian did not reveal that he already knew the blacksmith Iji.
With the letter dispatched, Lucian sat tapping his finger against the throne's armrest. He had been away for two days—who could say if the tasks he'd set in motion had been faithfully carried out?
Soon, Crucible Knight Andre arrived at his summons to report. "My lord, the person you ordered the soldiers to keep an eye on has already entered Stormveil,"
"And also, the bridge to the Chapel of Anticipation has been repaired."
Stormveil, now open to all peoples, required only a simple registry at its gates: a name, an age, and an identity. Nothing more. And the one Lucian had them watch for was none other than Sorcerer Thops.
He did not send anyone to seek him out directly; after all, Thops was not famous, even among sorcerers—expelled from the Academy of Raya Lucaria and forgotten by most. Lucian himself had never met him before, and searching for him so suddenly would have seemed suspicious. It was better to simply wait.
As expected, when Thops, who had been residing at the Church of Irith, learned that Stormveil had opened its gates, he came on his own.
With Thops found, Lucian thought that his business in Limgrave was nearly complete.
Edgar, Castellan of Castle Morne, and his daughter Irina had been saved and now lived in peace. Roderika and even her companions had survived, and as in the game, had begun her study of Spirit Tuning. Boc had recovered his mother's keepsake and now honed his tailoring skills in Stormveil. Merchant Kalé spent his days trading within the castle, saving enough rune to rejoin the caravan of nomadic merchants.
He had already arranged to study magic under Sorceress Sellen, and had crossed paths with Patches and Yura.
As for Blaidd's request to find the Bloodhound Knight, Lucian delayed it—for it touched upon secrets he was deeply interested in, and he preferred not to resolve it too soon.
He had also sent people to track White Mask Varré, but it seemed the man had somehow caught wind of his search. He had vanished without a trace. Knight Bernahl, too, was absent from his shack.
After all, this was not a game—it was reality. Those who should have appeared did not necessarily appear, and sometimes those who should not have appeared in Limgrave did.
For that, Lucian had no answer. He possessed only the knowledge of the game's story, not omniscience. In truth, the fact that so many events still unfolded so closely to the story surprised him.
As for why the bridge to the Chapel of Anticipation had been rebuilt—Lucian intended to recover the corpse of the Finger Maiden there, and grant her rest within a proper tomb. To leave her abandoned in desolation seemed cruel.
He left Thops for later. First, the maiden. Too much time had passed already; who knew if time had already caused her corpse to decay?
Rising from his throne, Lucian passed through Stormveil with only Elyssa and Redd at his side.
Long ago, Stormveil had been connected to the Chapel of Anticipation by a bridge, but it had been destroyed for reasons unknown. With Stormveil still scarred and rebuilding, Lucian did not order a full stone reconstruction. Instead, a simple suspension bridge had been built—enough for passage. He had little intention of visiting often.
The Crucible Knight's wings had been invaluable—carrying timbers across the storm-swept gulf. Long before work began, Lucian had calmed the violent storms that raged between the two sites. Now the suspension bridge spanned peacefully across.
They crossed to the Chapel of Anticipation. The air was as ever bleak and barren, lifeless. Memories pressed upon him as he walked—the despair upon learning this was no game but reality. The terror of facing the Grafted Scion, and the exhilaration of obtaining the Wind Spirit Moon Shadow.
Before entering the chapel where she lay, Lucian ascended to the upper floor where once he claimed the ashes of the Stormhawk Deenh and the Stormhawk King Ashes.
There he saw the remains of the Grafted Scion—still nothing more than a mangled heap of flesh. It had been the only foe thus far that forced Lucian to use his Wind Spirit Moon Shadow twice. Once a seemingly insurmountable enemy, it now looked like little more than a minor obstacle he could crush at will.
Lingering but a moment, he descended to the chapel. Elyssa and Redd stood guard at the doors, leaving him alone.
The chapel was in ruins. When the Scion had fallen from above, it had thrashed about, shattering pews and shelves until nothing but splinters remained.
But in the corner, spared from harm, lay the maiden's body.
Lucian stood silent before her, gaze lingering on the body—preserved, almost unchanged. In life, her sole wish had been for him to become Elden Lord. She had not even left behind the identity of her killer—no plea for vengeance, only a quiet hope. Even in death, she had left him with her message, through her fillet, that this was no mere game world. And Lucian, he realized bitterly—had never truly known her at all.
If only he had reached the Lands Between earlier, perhaps he could have saved her.
Lucian sighed.
"I've come to take you home."
He lifted the maiden's body gently into his arms. His plan was to return her to Stormveil, and lay her to rest in a proper grave.
When Elyssa and Redd saw him emerge carrying a corpse, they were startled. They had not known why he wished to reconnect Stormveil and the Chapel; they had assumed it was simply for worship. None of them imagined he would emerge carrying the dead.
They recognized the attire at once; the garb of a Finger Maiden.
They had always known Lucian was Tarnished, and powerful. And they knew all Tarnished were bound to a maiden—it was said so everywhere. Yet never had they seen his. Many had wondered why she never appeared. None had guessed, none had dared to imagine that she had died here, alone.
Now, the King had come to bring his Maiden home.
They asked nothing. Lucian offered no explanation.
In silence, they crossed the suspension bridge back to Stormveil. Behind them, the eternal storm above the chapel stirred once more, battering the bridge until it groaned. From then on, the Chapel of Anticipation welcomed no one.
And that day, for the first time, the winds of Stormveil fell silent.
—
On their way back, Roderika spotted them and hurried over. Having trained as a Spirit Tuner, she immediately sensed it—even from afar; the maiden's corpse still held a faint echo of soul.
"My lord," she exclaimed, "there is still a trace of soul's echo within her!"
Lucian was stunned. He knew Spirit Tuners could commune with spirits—but "soul echoes" was new to him.
"What are they?"
Roderika explained; "Often, a body still holds remnants of the soul. If the body does not become spirit ashes, the soul disperses with time.But sometimes… an echo lingers, a faint residue. It cannot be spoken to, only glimpsed, like a final wish."
She offered to try. Lucian agreed readily. To know the maiden's final wish would be invaluable—perhaps even reveal her killer. At the very least, it would let him understand her more.
Roderika tried again and again, but the echo was faint, too fragile. There was no response. Perhaps only under certain conditions, or upon meeting something significant, would its message emerge.
At last Lucian gave up. "So be it." A pity—but nothing more could be done.
—
Outside Stormveil, a carriage waited, bearing a stone coffin prepared for her. Lucian laid her within, one hand still holding her form as if reluctant to let go.
Lucian rode in another carriage, with Roderika and the others.
The convoy moved toward the Fringefolk Hero's Grave at the borderlands. There she would be interred. Strictly speaking, as a Finger Maiden she had no right to rest there. But she had been his maiden—the first, the maiden of Stormveil's King, and of the one who would be Elden Lord. None could deny her.
The convoy rolled on in silence—
Then Roderika suddenly looked up. Something outside had stirred the echo. Without a word, she leapt from the carriage, rushing forward.
Lucian halted the convoy and followed. Roderika knelt to pick up two flowers, handing them to him. They were wilted, golden-hued blossoms, paired together.
"She wanted you to have these." she said softly.
Two faded Erdleaf Flowers. Flowers that grew where leaves of the Erdtree fell—like the Tarnished themselves; blessed to return to the Lands Between, only to wither like autumn leaves.
"These were her favorite," Roderika whispered.
With this gift, the soul's echo faded forever.
She had left no name, no story, only this.
Lucian held the flowers. He kept one, and placed the other inside her coffin, to remain with her. His heart ached—as if trying to grasp the wind, only for it to slip through, leaving nothing behind.
She had blessed him with parting words once—a wish for his fortune. When she had written those words, she must already have known her fate.
—
At last, they reached the Fringefolk Hero's Grave—the place where Lucian had first set foot in the Lands Between. Under the watch of a towering statue, Lucian carried her coffin down by lift into the depths. At a fog-shrouded door, Lucian pressed a Stonesword Key into the imp statue. The mist dissolved.
A poison swamp lay beyond. Elyssa froze it solid so they could cross. Carrying the coffin, Lucian advanced.
As they pressed deeper, the grinding of gears echoed. Out of the dark rolled a massive bronze construct: a chariot shaped like a knight of Leyndell, drawn by twin steeds of stone.
A Chariot of the Tombs. None knew its true name. Said to guard the dead, powered by forbidden craft. Its iron spikes and crushing wheels had claimed many who trespassed—so many, in another life, that players had cursed it with the name "Dump Truck."
But now, Elyssa leapt upon it, freezing its innards. Within seconds, the thing ground to a halt. They left it intact. The tomb still needed its guardian.
Further in, spectral soldiers appeared—but on seeing Lucian, they parted and bowed in silence.
At last, they reached the deepest chamber, where the roots of the Erdtree coiled. Here once the Rite of Return had been performed. But now, only a Putrid Tree Spirit dwelled, roused by their intrusion.
Lucian laid the coffin down. He had no desire to waste time. With Elyssa and Redd aiding him, the abomination was quickly destroyed.
Then, at the chamber's center, Lucian placed her coffin. He gazed long upon her face, committing it to memory. No grand funeral followed—only rest.
The stone closed over her.
Here she would sleep, forever.