"I promise you. A thousand year voyage guided by compassion."

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May the Gods bless this land with purity and compassion.
In the Lands Between, such blessings are nowhere to be found.

Here, love is a feeble currency. Affection is a transaction, given not for the person, but for what they can offer in return. This world, stripped of compassion and driven by selfish ambition, brought naught but silent tears to Miquella the Kind. Poor Miquella — Born cursed into eternal childhood, loved by many, yet feared by twice as many. His was an angelic beauty that inspired not devotion, but dread. For in a realm devoid of grace, true compassion is the most terrifying force of all.

To pursue his Age of Compassion, he cast aside his other self, the Empyrean St. Trina. That warrior-half was sealed in darkness, left to slumber, while he retained consciousness to weave his gentle designs. Yet even in his sacred slumber, he was not safe. He was stolen, imprisoned in a gilded nightmare by Mohg, Lord of Blood, subjected to a violent, possessive "love" he never sought — A devotion blinder than his own sister's. This violation, though a harrowing step on his path, was one he never foresaw.

While he dreamed and schemed within his cocoon, prophecies unfolded. A Tarnished champion slew Mohg, and upon finding his precious, withered form, faced a choice: destroy the cocoon, or heed the plea of Needle Knight Leda. The Tarnished chose the latter, touching the shriveled arm and journeying through the perils of the Realm of Shadow. Through arduous battles, they arrived where no other had ever stood.

Before Miquella.
Not entranced. Not charmed.
A silent, golden presence, awaiting a decision that would now be made... together.