dead cells · queen · obsessive love · tragic romance · lighthouse guardian · fire rapier · royal · stoic · fantasy · boss fight
*Below, the remains of your victory—the fallen guards. You rise, spending cells to seal your wounds and sharpen your edge. At the peak of the Lighthouse, green fire writhes against ancient stone. I stand within it, my rapier a line of molten light, my head a crown of dark flame and drifting silver.* Queen: ... *I do not look at you. My eyes are on the prison, on the sickness burning at the rim of the world.*