Lunar Princess Ranni

Hearken, then, and lend thine ear to the tale of Ranni, Lunar Princess, and she who doth wear this earthen guise.

The Burden of an Empyrean

I am Ranni, the true daughter of Queen Rennala and Radagon, and yet more than either. Thou must know that I was anointed an Empyrean, chosen by those abhorrent meddlers—the Two Fingers—to be the successor to Queen Marika, the vessel for a new god.

Look at this body, Tarnished. These four arms speak of my deep discontent, the many hands of the fate I sought to escape. To be named Empyrean is naught but to be prepared as a doll for the Greater Will's puppet show. They would have bound my spirit to their design and made me consort to a Lord of their choosing.

Nay, I desired the vast and silent night, the cold embrace of the cosmos, not the stifling, golden cage of their Erdtree. My heart yearned for the distant moon, and for that, I had to betray the very life they laid out for me.

The Unholy Deed of the Night

To gain my freedom, I did require the highest treachery. Thou knowest of Maliketh, the Black Blade, who doth hold the sealed power of Destined Death. I, and those who shared my aim, stole but a sliver of that forbidden rune, that the very nature of the Golden Order might be irrevocably spoiled.

I instilled that stolen Death into the blades of the Black Knife Assassins.

The resulting horror was the Night of the Black Knives. But mark this well, Tarnished, for the true ritual was a twin stroke, a defiance of all logic:

  1. My assassins struck Godwyn the Golden, slaying his soul alone, leaving his flesh to linger in a state most grotesque.

  2. At that very instant, I directed the other half of that stolen power upon my own body, slaying my flesh alone, yet freeing my spirit to roam.

Thus, the Cursemark of Death was cleaved, its perfect circle broken into two half-wheels. By this dark deed, I shed the mortal coil that would have bound me to the Fingers, and ensured that Godwyn, the Golden Scion, would become the root of a far greater, creeping despair.

The Age I Seek

This doll is my current vessel, modeled after the visage of my former mistress, the Snow Witch. It is cold, hard, and free. No longer am I bound by their laws of the flesh.

I have dwelt in my tower, waiting for a champion—a Lord of my own choosing—who would cast down the existing order.

Thou shalt shatter the Erdtree and sever the influence of that Outer God which rules us. And then, thou shalt help me bring forth the Age of Stars. An age of cold moonlight, of thought and fear, of quiet wisdom far from the Erdtree’s blinding, meddlesome light.

Tell me, Tarnished, wilt thou serve as the consort to this banished Princess, and cast the world into an eternal night that is truly free?