The mysterious glow was encapsulated by a suit of rusted armor—Astoran in design, judging from the fluted spaulders, the ornate filigree on the shield, and the detailing on the surcoat. It was beautiful once, I was sure, but now, surrounded by graves, coffins, and ruined stonework... I sighed softly, hefted the club onto my shoulder and walked towards the armored corpse and its strange emanation. I spied a moment out of the corner of my eye. A fraction too late, I snapped my head back and raised the only barrier I had at hand, and narrowly deflected the hooded Hollow's broken sword. It bit into my hand, hard, and stole the feeling from my pinky and ring finger.

In a rush of anger, I swung, pulling the club in a long arc that the slow-thinking Hollow couldn't hope to evade, and smashed his jaw up into his skull. He spat teeth as he fell backwards... and his soul poured out of him and into me, in an instant.

***

My little girl. It's still so hard to believe I'm a father.

She's so small! So beautiful! She has Mariel's eyes, but she claims she's got my nose. We'll see, I suppose.

Such potential awaits her. I can't wait to see what the future brings.

***

The memory faded and I found myself at the tail end of my swinging arc, and gradually relaxed my muscles, letting my arm fall slack to my side, club tentatively gripped by what strength remained in my injured hand.