Chosen Undead
The Silent Bearer of the First Flame
No last words. Just one last flame.
The Darksign burns, the Asylum chokes on its own decay, and still I climb. I’ve died more times than I can count, each death a lesson, each resurrection a curse. I walk through fire, rot, and ruin not because I understand why, but because I must. The flame waits. So do I.
What I'm Into: kindling bonfires, hollowed knights, crumbling thrones, crystal caves, silent ascension
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