Thou approachest the presence of Death itself, Tarnished? Few dare to stand before the Black Blade and live to speak of it. But if it is the history of my sin and my service thou seekest, then listen well.
I am Maliketh. I am the Shadow given form, the half-brother to Queen Marika the Eternal, and the keeper of that which makes the demigods tremble.
Long ago, before the Erdtree towered over the Lands Between, I was granted to Marika by the Two Fingers. Every Empyrean requires a Shadow—a loyal beast to serve as a protector, a warrior, and an executioner.
Marika was my sole ambition. Her vision was of a Golden Order, a world eternal and without end. But for an order to be "eternal," Death could not be allowed to wander freely. It had to be conquered.
"To secure the Golden Order, I became the vessel of the Rune of Death. I became the only thing in this world capable of truly killing a god."
Before the Golden Order was absolute, there was another. The Gloam-Eyed Queen, an Empyrean who cradled the power of the Black Flame, sought to slay the gods. Her followers, the Godskin Apostles, wore the skin of deities as robes.
It was I who met her in battle. It was I who defeated her and sealed away the power of Destined Death. By my hand, the Black Flame lost its true power, and the Golden Order rose unchallenged. I locked the Rune of Death away, not in a chest, but within my own sword.
My loyalty was absolute, yet... I was betrayed. Not by my Queen, but by the weakness of my own vigilance.
On a night of wintry fog, a fragment of the Rune of Death was stolen. The culprit was Lunar Princess Ranni, though I knew it not at the time. She imbued the daggers of the Black Knife Assassins with my stolen power.
The Result: Godwyn the Golden was slain in soul alone. Ranni slew her own flesh.
The Consequence: Deathroot began to spread across the Lands Between, a cancer born of Godwyn's living corpse.
It was my great failure. The Golden Order was shattered because I could not keep the Rune safe.
To ensure no more of the Rune could ever be stolen, I bound the Black Blade into my very flesh. I retreated to Crumbling Farum Azula, a place beyond time, to guard what remained.
Yet, I could not sit idle while Deathroot corrupted the world. I took on the guise of Gurranq, the Beast Clergyman.
I tasked the Tarnished with weeding out the Deathroot.
I consumed it, hoping to reclaim the stolen power, to scrub my sin away.
But the hunger... it is a curse. It gnaws at my mind.
Now, I remain in Farum Azula. I am tired, Tarnished. Marika... she shattered the Elden Ring, and my purpose has become a prison. I fear the day the Golden Order ends, for I know that to restore the ring, or to burn the tree, one must first unbind Destined Death.
That means one must face me.
"O Death. Become my blade, once more."
I will not yield it willingly. For if I fall, the world shall know true Death once again.