No one has come this far, not for a very long while.
Young Hollow, do you wish to shed this curse?
Then accept the fate of your ilk, and face the trials that await you.
Unless, you have already joined the crestfallen.
Young Hollow, there are but two paths. Inherit the order of this world, or destroy it.
But only a true monarch can make such a choice.
Very few, indeed, have come even this far.
And yet, your journey is far from over.
Half-grown Hollow, have you what it takes, truly?
Young Hollow, seek after Vendrick.
He who almost became a true monarch.
Vendrick is certain to guide your way.
Fledgeling Hollow, may we meet again.
Heheh, I believe we've been acquainted.
Young Hollow, conqueror of fear.
What drives you so, to overcome this supposed curse?
Life is brilliant. Beautiful. It enchants us, to the point of obsession.
Some are true to their purpose, though they are but shells, flesh and mind.
One man lost his own body, but lingered on, as a head.
Others chase the charms of love, however elusive.
What is it that drives you?
Once, the Lord of Light banished Dark, and all that stemmed from humanity.
And men assumed a fleeting form.
These are the roots of our world.
Men are props on the stage of life, and no matter how tender, how exquisite...
A lie will remain a lie.
Young Hollow, knowing this, do you still desire peace?
Vendrick, the near-true monarch, is here, and not far off.
But what is a king?
You, neither born with greatness, nor granted it by the fates.
What is it that you seek?
You cannot even say yourself.
We shall meet again, young Hollow.
Young Hollow.
How you grapple, without falter, with this dreadfully twisted world.
Peace grants men the illusion of life.
Shackled by falsehoods, they yearn for love, unaware of its grand illusion.
Until, the curse touches their flesh.
We are bound by this yoke.
As true as the Dark that churns within men.
All men trust fully the illusion of life.
But is this so wrong?
A construction, a facade, and yet...
A world full of warmth and resplendence.
Young Hollow, are you intent on shattering the yoke, spoiling this wonderful falsehood?
I am Aldia.
I sought to shed the yoke of fate, but failed.
Now, I only await an answer.
Seek the throne.
Seek light, Dark and what lies beyond...
Many monarchs have come and gone.
One drowned in poison, another succumbed to flame.
Still another slumbers in a realm of ice.
Not one of them stood here, as you do now.
You, conqueror of adversities.
Give us your answer.
I lost everything, but remained here, patiently.
The throne will certainly receive you.
But the question remains...
What do you want, truly?
Light? Dark? Or something else entirely...
There is no path.
Beyond the scope of light, beyond the reach of Dark...
...what could possibly await us?
And yet, we seek it, insatiably...
Such is our fate.

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