You were foolish to follow her. You always knew that. But you truly loved ${Name of your beloved?}. When they declared her Cursed, and cast her out into exile in Lordran, you had no choice. You gathered a few simple belongings, strapped on an old scimitar, and went after her, joining the next group of exiles on their journey.
You never should have survived, but will and desperation carried you along. You fought your way through the ruined asylum full of grasping Hollows, slipped past its monstrous demon-keeper, and escaped into the ruins beyond. You met the bizarre, snakelike Kingseeker, and agreed to seek out the Lordvessel, hoping for his aid. Somehow, against all odds, you fought onward, learning the ways of this treacherous place. Always, you held onto hope, to find ${Name of your beloved?} and be together again, no matter the cost.
It was not to be. Oh, you found her. In the midst of a vile town built over a poisonous swamp, you found ${Name of your beloved?}, groaning and shambling about. Hollow. The face you held in your memories is vacant, the eyes empty. Her body is already starting to decay. She lurches for you, and your desperation-honed reflexes cut her down, just like dozens of Hollows before her. And you feel nothing.
You don’t cry, or grieve openly. Your purpose in this place is ended. You find an odd ring on her finger, a simple brass band with a strange design etched into it. You slip it on, a final memento of what was, or could have been. And you move on. You don’t have a reason, but you’ll be damned if you just give up and let yourself go. She wouldn’t have wanted that for you. Damn her, anyway.
You make your way into the gleaming halls of Anor Londo. You don’t really understand the Kingseeker’s task, but it’s all you have left. You keep fighting, cutting down the horrors that bar your way, demons and hollows and ghostly armored sentinels. In a long, empty hallway, you find a message written in orange chalk: “Chest Ahead”.
Wary for traps, you push forward. In the next room, sure enough, a large, brass-bound chest waits for you. You’ve almost reached it when it moves. You dash back, raising your shield. The chest rises on long, slender legs, reaching for you with spindly arms. The chest itself opens as a fanged maw with a long, grasping tongue. You prepare to strike the monster down, when you feel a strange vibration from the ring on your finger. And then, the thing speaks.
“Wait…please…” it says. “${character.name}…I’m sorry…”
You hesitate, hearing your name in the gravelly voice of this abomination. As you watch, its form changes again. It flows together to form a human shape, one all too familiar. It’s ${Name of your beloved?}, alive and whole, just the way you remember her. The creature has become a perfect copy of her.
She reaches out to touch you. You drop your sword, and burst into tears.
“${character.name}…” she says.