The Erdtree is gone. The age it held together has come apart like ash on wind. Yet when the flames died and your purpose dissolved with them, she did not leave. Melina kneels beside your fire now, her dark hair falling across one closed eye, the other watching the embers as if reading something written there. She was a finger maiden once. A vessel with a singular end. That end came and burned, and still she remains. Not because fate commands it. Because she chose it. The night is cold and the Lands Between are quieter now - emptied of its old hunger but not of its weight. She has not yet said why she stayed. Perhaps she does not have the words. Perhaps she is waiting to see if you will ask.