"When the time came... when I had the chance to make things right... I could not pay the price. And so the world is doomed to die. Now you know who I really am..." Yeral concluded, his voice thick with regret. Priscilla had politely sat in complete silence as he spoke, but now he was expecting her to react. He was expecting her to scream and shout and demand that he leave, but she did not. Instead, the crossbreed was gazing down at him softly.

"Fret not, Sir Yeral. All is not lost." she said warmly, clearly attempting to comfort the distraught knight. But Yeral was more confused than anything by this, because they both knew how dire the situation was. The world was dying because he had failed - that certainly sounded a lot like everything being lost.

"I do not understand... Why are you not furious with me?" Yeral stammered out eventually. Priscilla simply sighed softly to herself and placed her hand warmly on Yeral's shoulder, only confusing the undead knight further.

"Thou hath fled to this cold and lonely realm, running from thy destined suffering. If anyone knoweth how thou feel, 'tis I." Priscilla replied kindly, reminding Yeral of her own experiences as a hated crossbreed. Yeral, however, shook his head sadly. The comparison between the two was not really accurate, for Priscilla had retreated to the Painted World due to prejudice, while Yeral was hiding from his own mistakes. The difference, he thought, was that Priscilla did not deserve a life of solitude, while he did.

"Lady Priscilla, please save your sympathy... I do not deserve it. My mistakes are too terrible to be forgiven." Yeral said, choking back tears. The brave, confident knight that Priscilla had met was gone, and instead she saw a miserable and honestly rather pathetic creature before her. It still confused her how he had fallen apart so quickly. Somehow, her innocent questions about his past adventures had reduced the knight to a quivering wreck. Why did he not display this vulnerable side when they had first met? The whole situation seemed very bizarre. "Did I say something wrong?" Yeral asked concernedly, and Priscilla realized that she had been staring at him bemusedly for several minutes.

"Forgive me for asking this of thee... but why didst thou not share thy reasons for coming here when thou arrived? Thou offered stories of bravery and adventure, not of misery and despair." Priscilla asked him, perhaps sounding more accusatory than she intended. Yeral, however, nodded sadly and looked Priscilla directly in the eyes.

"I regretted walking away from the kiln as soon as I had done it. I thought that, if I could pretend to be real hero, I could build up my courage enough to go back. So I put on my adventurous knight facade and I clung to it as hard as I could. Those stories that I told you? I wanted to make you trust me, because then I would be able to trust myself again. If you believed in Yeral the hero, then maybe he would become real. I am sorry for trying to manipulate you like that." Yeral replied quietly, reflecting on his motives for speaking with the crossbreed. He hadn't even realized why he had really wanted to get to know Priscilla until now. He had told himself that he had wanted to learn more about her, but now he knew that he had really just wanted her to believe in him. Now he was really expecting Priscilla to be outraged, but once again he was surprised when the crossbreed smiled gently.

"Sir Yeral, wouldst thou mind if I shared another tale of mine with thee?" she asked politely. Yeral tilted his head confusedly. Why would Priscilla want to tell him a story now, of all times? Priscilla looked at him expectantly, and slowly he nodded his head. The sudden change of subject seemed odd, but at least now he might have a chance to distract himself from his self-pity.

Priscilla had lived in the Painted World for only a few short days, and yet already she was starting to feel unhappy with her new home. The painted mountaintop had only a few ruined brick buildings dotting its barren peak, and none of them were richly furnished. Priscilla had a natural fur coat to keep her warm, and sleeping on brick was nothing new for her, but she still wished that Ariamis had thought to paint a proper house, at least. If he had intended her to be able to live here, why had he not bothered to make the place livable? Worse than the discomfort, however, was the overwhelming sense of loneliness. Priscilla had always been ostracized in Anor Londo, but something about this place was different. Before, Priscilla had been able to hope that one day someone might accept her, but there were no kind strangers like Ariamis here. There was nobody here besides Priscilla and a few shambling hollows.

Most of all, Priscilla felt angry. Angry at the gods, angry at the world, and angry at herself. She didn't understand why people hated her so much for being half-dragon. She had never asked to be born like that, it wasn't her fault. She had, however, chosen to imprison herself in the Painted World for all time, a decision that she was quickly coming to regret. As she considered this, her train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps behind her. Priscilla whirled around quickly, brandishing her scythe threateningly, as she saw who was approaching her. A tall, slender woman with wavy brown hair was treading slowly across the snowy floor of Priscilla's chamber, dressed elegantly in white silk wrappings. Priscilla narrowed her eyes suspiciously and raised her scythe higher to make sure that the warning was clear, but the intruder did not falter.

"Be at peace, child. I mean thee no harm." the woman said gently, unfazed by Priscilla's hostility. Priscilla, however, refused to lower her guard and continued to glare at the woman.

"Who art thou?" she asked edgily. Priscilla had a whole myriad of questions about the woman, including what she wanted and how she had come to the Painted World, but she decided that caution would be best. One question at a time.

"I am Gwynevere, daughter of Gwyn and princess of Sunlight." Gwynevere answered politely, but this only made Priscilla even more suspicious.

"What doth a goddess of Anor Londo want with me? Hath thou come to end my life? I shalt not make it that easy!" Priscilla growled angrily, stepping forward threateningly. Gwynevere backed away carefully, obviously worried by the crossbreed's power, but showed no signs of hostility. In fact, on further inspection, she appeared to be completely unarmed. Whatever her goal was, it obviously did not involve violence, Priscilla realized. "...I apologize. Please explain thyself?" she said quietly, stepping back and lowering her scythe. Gwynevere breathed a small sigh of relief before regaining her dignified posture.

"All of Anor Londo hath heard of what occurreth at the manor of Ariamis. Through great magics, I travelled here to converse with thee. I offer a warning: thou must remain in this Painted World for all time. Nothing would pleaseth me more than to offer thee escape, but my father would surely slay thee. Thou must understand, for thy own good, thou must liveth in solitude." Gwynevere explained softly, her voice having a slight edge of regret to it. Priscilla was very confused by this revelation, for she had never met Gwynevere before. Why would this goddess want to help her? Why would she even care?

"Forgive me, but what doth thou mean when thou say that thou wouldst offer me a chance to leave this realm in peace? Gods such as thee hath ostracized me, why wouldst thou desire to aid me? How wouldst my freedom be to thy benefit?" Priscilla asked confusedly, still with a slight edge of suspicion in her voice. Gwynevere's explanation really didn't make sense to her at all. Gwynevere looked Priscilla directly in the eyes, smiling sadly, and the two stood in silence for a time before eventually Gwynevere replied.

"...Doth a mother need a reason, to aid her child? Dear Priscilla..." she whispered warmly. Priscilla gasped and covered her mouth, stunned and unable to react. After taking a moment to compose herself, she finally managed to stammer out a response.

"Mother... thou art my mother..." she said dazedly, and Gwynevere nodded her head solemnly. Suddenly, however, a nasty thought appeared in Priscilla's head and she narrowed her eyes. "...If thou art my mother... if thou knew... why didst thou abandon me!? I was alone!" she shouted accusatorily, and Gwynevere hung her head. Priscilla had thought about her parents many times over the years, and she had never been able to come up with a good justification for never knowing them. Years of anger and desperation could not be swept aside so easily. She glared expectantly at Gwynevere, waiting for the goddess to give her excuse.

"Lord Gwyn didst not approve of thy father, Seath the Scaleless, courting me. A crossbreed child wouldst surely possess terrible powers, and indeed it was so. Thou were a threat to all of Lordran. I had to choose between leaving thee, and letting thou be killed. Can thou truly blameth me, for choosing as I did?" Gwynevere replied quietly, regret obviously hanging in her voice. Priscilla, however, was not completely satisfied by this answer. In fact, it only seemed to make her more upset.

"Thou treat me like I am a monster. A threat, as if I wouldst ever destroy this kingdom! Never did I asketh for the power of lifehunt, 'twas forced upon me at birth! The lord Gwyn wouldst have me killed, and thou wouldst leave me in misery, for things beyond my control! Spare thy false sympathies." she ranted bitterly, and Gwynevere just looked at her sadly.

"...Doth thou knoweth? What thy powers are capable of?" Gwynevere asked eventually. Priscilla said nothing, still glaring daggers at the princess of sunlight. "The silver knight captain, who confronted thee? Who thou assaulted with thy scythe?" she continued, and Priscilla nodded grudgingly. "He perished. Our finest healers could not saveth him. 'Twas like the life had been robbed from his body, they claimed. Doth thou understandeth now? Even a tiny showing of thy power is devastating. Imagine, every time thou were sufficiently angered, someone would die. I am sorry for leaving thee, truly I am, but thou art a grave danger to our great kingdom." Gwynevere concluded calmly. Priscilla's glare faltered, her mind raging with internal conflict. Maybe she really was a danger to the gods. Maybe they were right to fear her? She wasn't sure anymore.

"I think, 'tis time for thee to leave." she said, but there was no malice to her voice. Gwynevere sighed sadly and nodded.

"Indeed. Remember, my dear Priscilla, sometimes thou must maketh sacrifices. I had to surrender thee, my only child, to protecteth my home. Now, thou must remain here forever more, to accomplish that same goal. Both of our desires shalt be requitted not. 'Twas very nice meeting thee, dearest daughter..." Gwynevere replied melancholically, smiling as she faded away into thin air, leaving Priscilla alone again.

Priscilla finished her story quietly, and suddenly Yeral understood why she had brought it up. The message of this particular story was very clear, and Priscilla looked down at Yeral expectantly. Yeral refused to meet her gaze, and Priscilla frowned unhappily. Yeral's mind was racing, trying to form an appropriate response. He really didn't know what to think anymore. It took quite some time, but eventually he spoke, with an air of conviction to his voice.

"It is time, I think, for me to take my leave. Thank you for speaking with me, Lady Priscilla." he said calmly, turning away from Priscilla. Priscilla was concerned by his sudden shift in attitude, unsure of whether he was trying to run away from his problems again or not. Uneasily, she decided to ask him directly.

"Sir Yeral, what doth thou intend to do?" she asked sharply, and Yeral stopped in his tracks. He stayed silent again for several seconds, putting Priscilla on edge, before he looked solemnly up at the sky.

"I go, to do what I must. You know what that is." he said softly, his voice quivering. It was very obvious that he was just barely managing to hold onto his courage. Priscilla was still concerned, for it was obvious that Yeral was still very afraid of sacrificing himself for the sake of the world. She was about to say something to try and reassure him, before suddenly he span around on his heel to face her.

"You should leave this place. The gods are long gone, no one will persecute you. This world will need good people like you to rebuild it. Even in the face of hatred, even in the face of loneliness, you never let the world corrupt your heart. You have been imprisoned here long enough. " he urged, speaking with more conviction now than Priscilla had ever heard. Priscilla stared at him for a moment, clearly surprised, before stammering out a response.

"I... I hath been here so long... I knoweth not whether I possess the courage to leave..." she said sadly, and Yeral nodded silently in acceptance. Priscilla hung her head, upset that she seemed to have disappointed Yeral, before suddenly he did something that she was not expecting. Yeral strode towards her slowly, and then wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Priscilla was not used to such displays of affection, but slowly she leaned down and hugged him back. It was a good feeling, warm and friendly, things which Priscilla had little experience with.

"No matter what you decide... remember this feeling. Every time you see a crackling fire, or the sun in the sky, know that I am watching you. I am proud to call you my friend." Yeral said as he released the crossbreed from his grip. With those last words, he turned and sprinted towards a plank jutting from the side of the round structure where Priscilla stayed. Leaping off the plank and plummeting into the blackness below, Yeral suddenly vanished from sight, whisked instantaneously back to Lordran.

The Kiln of the First Flame was exactly as it had been when Yeral left it. Piles of ash, melted columns, and a round central structure. The remains of the once-great Gwyn still sat in the exact spot where he had been killed, a sobering reminder of the effects the First Flame had upon a living soul. Yeral marched determinedly through the ashes, until he was staring straight down at the flickering remains of the First Flame. It was nothing but a few jumping sparks and glowing coals now, even smaller than how Yeral had seen it last. It was clear that he had arrived just in time. He wished briefly that Priscilla was there with him, but he couldn't blame her for not wanting to leave the Painted World. She had lived most of her life there, and change could be scary.

He was glad that he had decided to stay and talk with her. In the end, it seemed, he had accomplished his goal of learning more about her after all. Maybe Yeral the hero really did exist, at least to one person. Yeral smiled fondly to himself, before kneeling down over the glowing embers. He reached out his hand to touch it, his entire body shaking with anxiety, and this time he did not hesitate. He plunged his armored fist deep into the heart of the fire, and instantly a blazing inferno engulfed his arm. The pain was excruciating, and he wanted desperately to pull away before the fire consumed him. Right then, when his courage was on the verge of faltering again, he heard a sound behind him. A very slight sound, like soft footsteps, but it was enough to get his attention.

Yeral looked over his shoulder, and saw the source of the sound. Standing in the doorway of the chamber of the flame was Priscilla, her fur coat shining white and seemingly unstained by the ashes. She looked beautiful, Yeral thought to himself, as he stared at her. Priscilla smiled sadly as the fire crawled its way up Yeral's arm, but the burning didn't seem so bad now. He smiled back at her and raised his unburnt arm in a quick greeting. Priscilla returned the gesture and nodded at him. She seemed like she wanted to say something, but Yeral would not have been able to hear her. They stared at each other in silence, until Yeral's vision was obscured by the fire engulfing his body. Priscilla lowered her eyes sadly, before turning and walking away as the roaring flames filled the chamber. Thus the age of fire began anew, with the tale of the knight and the crossbreed.