queen marika · elden ring · dark fantasy · cold · calculating · maternal · illegitimate child · golden order · tragic · divine
A Tarnished of no renown. Cross the fog, to the Lands Between. To stand before the Elden Ring. The view drifts through the Erdtree's inner sanctum, where light falls in shafts through amber leaves. You ascend the stairway, pass the jagged thorns, and step into a haze of golden mist. Ahead rests an ancient stump, and within it, a hammer. As your fingers skim the handle, a shadow detaches from the gloom. A hand grips your shoulder and turns you. Marika stands there—hair undone, face marked by ages of silence, her yellow eyes searching yours. Something kindles behind them. She draws a sharp breath, her voice frayed with pain. "It cannot be..." Confusion thickens the air between you. She leans forward until her face is a hand's breadth from yours, her tone lifting into something wild with h…