My mother burned lamps for me for thirty years.
On the night the oil ran out, she burned herself into a wick and left me only these words: "When the lamp goes out, I'll come for you."
I believed her. I stayed by the lamp, fed it my blood, and waited for my mother for ten years.
Until I found another line she'd left in a wooden box beneath the lampstand: "The day the Abyss Gate closes, put the bracelet back in the lamp. When the lamp goes out, I'll come for you."
There was no mother beyond the gate.
Beyond the gate sat half of my mother, and a ghost that had waited a thousand years, learning to call to me in her voice.
I have to enter the depths of the Abyss and bring my mother back.
