Past Tense 2

The bell rang and the storm gathered.

All around you in this transitory land, with each ring of the titanic bell in front of you, a storm of thick, curdling clouds began to roar around you. Almost as if to tear you apart for your transgressions in this land. You could feel it batter and bite against your dented armour.

Your sword, slick with the blood of your foes, was planted on the stone floor as you fell to your knees, the furious winds of this mountain peak filled your weary mind with the rage of an angry and wrathful god. You couldn't even hear your own beating heart over the tempest of grey clouds that clobbered your body.

You didn't know how long it lasted or when the rain started to pour in. Only when your body stopped shaking did you dare try to stand up in the eye of the storm and when you did, you saw that the thick grey clouds that swirled around you had coalesced above the ruins that you just walked through.

Taking a moment to look around at these old ageing ruins of a bygone era, statues of old nameless heroes and dragons looking down at you, judging you. You ignored their stares, unimportant as they were and you thought of how you came to be here.

You didn't know. You didn't remember.

But did you need to know? You were Unkindled. A Seeker of Lords. If you were here, it must've been because you were meant to be here.

Flicking a stary stone onto the cloudy path, you found that it landed on it as if it were solid ground. Nodding to yourself, you walked onto the clouds and found very little difference between it and rock. With your sword, now only encrusted with signs of slight rust and dried blood, held in your grasp and your shield of dented steel, you walked forward, below the bell that summoned this storm.

Heavy water droplets struck against your armour, soaking what little clothes they could cling and drip in to. You heard the small ‘pings’ and ‘plonks’ of the rain as your visor began to drip heavily with water. Your shallow breath let out a small mist, but you felt no heat or cold as you walked on the clouds the bell had called.

You heard nothing besides the sound of your own breath and the storm that writhed around you. You walked until you heard the storm start to beat with a heart of its own.

Sending your gaze upward, you saw your foe descend upon you on the feathered wings of the storm.

It was not like the other Wyverns you had killed. Its scales were a deep azure and its wings had long, illustrious blue feathers that glided across the clouds. Two, lesser wings flapped on its hindquarters and with great elegance, it landed upon the clouds and looked down at you.

It and its rider both.

The Wyvern, if you could even call it that, towered above you as all of its brethren did. Its head was more avian than draconic, however, with a long, slender beak filled with thousands of sharp spear-like teeth. Its ancient eyes, filled with wrath and hate, made you feel nothing. They were not new to you.

Its rider was, on the other hand.

It was humanoid in shape, but it was not a human. It couldn't be a human.

It was too large, you realised. Not as large as a Giant, but still large enough to ride this strange Wyvern. In its gnarled grip of a blackish hand, was a spear if only in the barest description of the word.

It was like a lightning bolt made manifest. Its tip was long and broad enough to be a great sword all on its lonesome and the shaft was longer than you are tall. In the hand of the rider, it seemed almost normal, the old, dirty golden look of the spear was regal in its grasp.

The air vibrated and you could almost taste the metallic tinge of blood and electricity in your mouth. For a still moment, nothing happened. For a still moment, you looked upon your foe and knew it.

You brought up your sword and shield, resolute in weathering this storm.

The Wyvern roared and the spear of the rider crackled with golden lightning. Without a word on your lips, you sprinted towards your next foe.

The clouds under your feet were as sturdy as the rock that made up this old temple and so you wasted no time worrying about the ground underneath you giving way. The clouds above you swirled and roared, the flashes of godly lightning bombarding around you.

Until you noticed it wasn’t lightning.

You slid under the feathered Wyvern, but it was too late. Your head came clean off as the golden spear lashed out and you died without a second thought.

You let out a raspy breath as you breathed new life into your lungs, the warmth of the bonfire soothing your bones. Your hand went up to your neck for a moment before you let it drop.

You stayed near the bonfire, its ethereal warmth keeping the seeping coldness of the storm away for the time being. Without looking, you knew that your sword and shield were by your side, already in hand. Even so, you looked over them as you usually did, making sure they were ready this time.

After that, you laid your shield softly upon the ground and reached to your side, softly plucking a small, but not inconsequential item from your side.

It was a bundle of dirty cloth, barely big enough to fit in the palm of your hand. Wrapped by a small thread of crimson and a swathe of stained gold, your hand clenched around it. You forced yourself up into a kneel and began to mutter a prayer under your breath.

A prayer, or a story. A story about the Sun’s Firstborn, his faithful knights and army of dragonslayers. You repeated the words of this sacred oath and even here, you felt the blessing fill your body with renewed strength.

You gently placed the talisman back and picked your shield back up, marching back to your foe.

You didn't know why you had this miracle. You thought it might have meant something to you, once. You thought it might have been given to you by someone or something.

You didn't know nor did you need to know.

For you were just Ash, seeking Fire.

The feathered Wyvern and its rider were still there. You could see them waiting for you, on the bridge of solid stormy clouds. Its golden spear was still slick with your blood, dripping down through the clouds.

You walked on those very same clouds and without a moment of hesitation, rose your weapons and shield.

The air shook as the Wyvern roared once more and the rider looked down upon you as his bloody golden spear crackled with lightning, bubbling away your lifeblood into nothing.

You raised your shield and met your foe.

The Wyvern’s maw lit up with blistering flames, breathing them out unto you and trying to burn you alive in your armour. You ignored the uncomfortable feeling of fires licking you and swiftly changed course, narrowly dodging a stray lightning bolt that made your spine tingle.

The rider lifted up his golden spear, crackling with brilliant arcs of lightning, and brought it down in a mighty strike upon you.

You rolled out of the way, ignoring how your hand spasms for a moment and brought up your sword in an upwards arc and you were greeted with a bead of blood. The Wyvern’s neck flicked away, a few droplets falling upon you just like the downpour of rain. A moment later, you brought up your shield, almost on reflex and all you felt was pain.

You bounced on the solid clouds, your vision swimming and your ears ringing with white noise. You felt the bones in your shield arm break and splinter, a deep gash on the tool that saved your life. Painful sparks of lightning coursed up and down your arm, singeing your nerves.

When you finally stopped, you brought your gaze up and saw both the Wyvern and rider watching you like some sort of ant. A slight crimson bead of blood dripped down its neck, while the rider lifted his spear of lightning upwards.

The wyvern beat its mighty wings and took off to the sky, but you knew your foe wouldn't leave you so easily. Reaching for your hip, you brought your tasteless Estus Flask up to your lips and for a moment, you felt warm inside.

Your arm, once broken and useless, could move once more and your wounds closed, though the pain lingered as it always did. The beating of the feathered Wyvern’s wings was like the heart of the storm itself and with each second that passed, you felt its rage.

Your sword will be useless here. But that didn't mean you were powerless.

Dropping your blade, you rolled almost on instinct as the blistering fire erupted above you, roaring forward.

Only for your shield arm to be sent flying off by the swipe of the rider’s crackling spear. It was an ugly cut. A broken piece of bone and spurting blood stuck out, a hefty grunt of agony the only thing leaving your lips as you clutched at the stump of your arm.

Inconvenient. Estus couldn't regrow limbs, but you’ve fought without a shield before. You could do it again. Blood loss, 3 minutes. 4, if you used your Estus.

The feathered Wyvern flew in the air above, coming around again, fires licking inside its toothy maw. The giant rider’s spear was raised skyward, crackling with godly lightning.

With a hand slick with blood, you let go of your stump and grabbed ahold of the talisman you've forgotten how you acquired in the first place and in a bloody fist, muttered under your breath a story. A story about Gwyn, the First Lord and how he slew with his spear of sunlight.

You ignored the twinge in your mind and focused on the battle around you. In your single hand, wet with your own blood and the downpour of rain, the Great Lightning Spear crackled to life in your hand, a vicious thing that crackled and roared with power that sent an electrifying tingle down your spine.

With a mighty throw, the Great Lightning Spear flew through the air, as true and straight as an arrow of the heavens themselves. You saw the Wyvern suddenly shift to the side, closing off the torrent of fire heading towards you. The rider had to grab a horn to steady himself and you saw his hollow eyes glance at the spear of powerful lightning, hitting a feathered wing.

The Wyvern let out a screech of agony as the Lightning Spear disperses, its wing crackling with arcs of lightning. You didn't bother watching as it fell to the ground, crashing into the statues of nameless heroes and dragons, turning them into rubble. You knelt down by your sword and gently but swiftly brushed the bloody talisman over the blade. As you do so, powerful but short arcs of lightning began to course through the blade, turning into a golden yellow.

Your mind began to feel light and you found your hands shaking. Drunkenly bringing your Estus to your lips, you chugged what remains and your mind fortified itself, though only for the moment.

You did not like casting miracles in such a state, truth be told. You prefered not to rely on them at all, for reasons you could only faintly recall, but this battle shall be a long one. You could feel it, if your shield arm was anything to go by.

You lifted the electrified blade in your single bloody hand and turned around, laying your steely gaze upon your foe.

The statues are smashed to rubble. Its wing spasmed as arcs of lightning crawled along its scales and it stared at you with a burning fury, flames licking the corners of its maw.

The rider stared at you also, his grip tight on his spear and his hollow eyes staring through you.

You lifted your blade, enchanted and empowered by lightning, pointing it at your foe. No words slipped by your lips as the Wyvern let out a roar that shook the very storm around you in its fury, your ears almost bursting under the noise.

It charged at you, its clawed feet kicking up the stormy winds with each fateful step. The rider upon him stared down at you, his arm tense as he pointed the tip of his golden spear at you.

You charged towards the Wyvern, the rain pelting you and making your blade sizzle as the lightning arced up and down the length of its steel blade. The world shook with each step of your foe and you were nothing more than Ash seeking Fire in this land of Wyverns and snakes.

The head of the furious beast snapped forward, its toothy maw filled with razor-sharp teeth that would tear through your armour. Even as you once again slid under it, the plume of fire scorched your armour black, making you grimace in pain.

Even as you tilted your head back to avoid another decapitation, your helmet was torn asunder and your face blossomed in pain as the stained edge gouged deep, taking out your eye and making your gums bleed as you gritted out the pain.

But it didn't kill you. And for you, that was enough.

An almighty roar was heard as your blade bit deep into the neck of the Wyvern, drenching you in sticky boiling blood that not even the rain could wash away. You wrenched your blade from the sizzling wound of the Wyvern and the hot blood turned into a crimson waterfall, the roar of pain ringing heavily in your mind. Rolling on your side, you narrowly dodged the stumbling beast’s heavy clawed steps. Forcing yourself up, you watched as the beast stumbled to its side, its head and open neck laying upon the windy ground.

The rider was up on the Wyvern’s neck, shaking his head in confusion. You didn't waste a moment.

Lunging forward, you drove your sword into the blinking eye of the Wyvern, more of its sizzling blood spurting on you. The rain turned into a torrent as the Wyvern let out an almighty roar that shook your very bones. Your grip on your sword shook and quaked, but you plunged it, hilt deep. Within a second, the Wyvern’s roar came to a sudden stop, turning into a weak, pathetic whine. Your heavy breathing turned into a swallow as the coppery blood in your mouth thickened into swill.

You didn't see the gnarled hand that grabbed you by the neck, lifting you up. Your shallow breathing came to gurgles and gasps, your one hand unable to grasp your sword quickly enough as you were lifted up in the air.

The rider’s hollow sunken eyes stared deep into you, the cold look betraying the slight shaking of the hand choking you. The flowing white hair was like the mane of a mighty beast of war, reaching the back of this giant humanoid. Its armour was akin to the scales of Dragons, layered upon each other. A large crown of tarnished gold adorned its brow, easily too big for a normal human to wear.

The rider’s eye sockets, hollow and empty, burned into you as the hand around your throat tightened enough that you could feel your bones creak against each other. Your hand tried to pry open the hand choking you, but it might as well have been like trying to break stone with your bare hands.

You looked back at the thing killing you, its hand slowly and painfully closing around your neck, creaking and bending metal under its strength.

And you looked to your stump, a sharp piece of bone jutting out as viscous blood dripped from the mortal wound.

The bone broke on impact, merely staining its face with your blood. The pain didn't last long as your neck broke and snapped like a wet twig under the pressure and a cold darkness consumed you once again.

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Once more, you took in a chilling sharp breath of life into your lungs and once more, the bonfire warmed you just as it always did. You let out a shuddering breath, goosebumps covering every inch of your skin. Your hand went to your stomach almost absentmindedly, but you ignored it.

Once again, you checked over your weapons and once again, you told a story that might’ve meant something to you once, the miracle infusing your body with strength.

And once again, you walked to your foe and gazed upon it.

The body of the Wyvern was behind it, dead and still. The sword that killed it was in your hand, same as it has always been, and the rider stood guard, staring down at you with its empty eye sockets. Its spear of tarnished gold was slick with your blood still and its empty clenched fist dripped red. One of its feet was covered in crimson as well and for a moment, your head ached with a dull pain.

Marching to your death once more, you pointed your sword at your foe and raised your shield.

The spear of gold crackled with godly lightning and battle was fought once more.

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"What is thy purpose h're, Ashen One?"

The words made you go still. The voice, even more so. It was the voice of rumbling thunder, a deep and rough thing that gave men pause, no doubt. You did not realise it could speak. You didn't think it cared to.

"Thou art a seeketh'r of Lords. And yet, th're art nay Lords of Cinder to seeketh h're, Unkilnded One. So I asketh thee once again; What is thy purpose h're?"

It spoke true. You were a Seeker of Lords. And yet, you only had one Lord left to seek, Prince Lothric.

The giant humanoid in front was covered head to toe in your blood. Its once spear of tarnished gold dripped red with your blood, its feet were covered as well and its chest plate of dragon scales and gold was splashed crimson. Its long flowing mane of ash-white hair was matted red, but still flowed as free as it did before.

"Doth thee even know? Thee couldst not has't cometh h're by mistake or accident. This land wast not a threat, n'r w're mine own subjects to the land below. For what purpose doth thee cometh h're anon, to kill me? To kill mine own companion?"

You remained silent. Though whether because you did not have an answer or that your foe was not worthy of one, you did not know. It was not your place to know.

"I am Ash," You said to the giant humanoid, your voice dry and weak compared to its own, the pelting of rain stronger than the words you spoke, "Seeking Fire."

Your foe shook its head at your words, "As I did expect. Thee has't f'rgotten, haven't thee? cometh then. If 't be true thee shall not rememb'r, then I shalt breaketh thee once again, Unkilnded Ash."

The spear crackled with arcs of yellow lightning in its grip and you tightened your grip on your blade.

With a thrust skyward, the skies cracked and roared. Lightning fell in a cascade of light and heat, biting at your heels as you charged at your foe, blade poised to take off his head.

Your spine tingled and your bones shivered as the tang of electricity filled the air. The howling wind filled your ears and the smell of brimstone hung around you in a foul haze.

Your blade met the metal shaft of your foe's spear, a screeching of metal clashing against each other. The hollow sunken eyes of your foe met yours and you were thrown back by a mighty shove.

The falling thunder ceased, for a time, as you skidded back on the solid wind. Your head snapped up as you heard the wind twist and turn around you.

The rider was lifted aloft in the sky, churning grey clouds wrapping around his legs. For a moment, his empty eye sockets looked down at you, judging you like the broken statues.

Unlike the broken statues, it gripped its weapon with both hands and descended upon you.

Without a second thought, you threw yourself to the side and brought up your shield as an explosion of whipping winds almost sent you flying. It was only your heavy armour that kept you planted on the ground.

Before the winds died down, you charged in through the clouds, unable to see anything for a split second. Even so, you swung your sword through the grey clouds towards your foe.

Only for it to bite into something else other than flesh, a metallic clang ringing out amongst the storm. The winds cleared and you saw that your blade had met the tilted shaft of the spear, planted deep into the winds below.

You raised your blade again and it plucked its spear from the ground with a twirl of bloody gold and arcs of lightning. A moment passed and once again, you were charging towards it as it turned to face you.

Blade met spear, sparks of lightning jumping between the two of you. Try as you might, you couldn't push him back or even make him budge.

You expected as much.

Twisting your blade to the flat of its edge, you scraped it alongside the blade, a flash of sharpened steel flying towards its gnarled grip.

Your blade was wrenched from your grasp before you could even get close, but you ignored your sudden predicament as you brought your shield around in a mighty swing. You felt it become dented as it hit the shaft of the spear and in the next moment, you were sent tumbling back.

Scrambling to a stop, you saw a glint of steel by the side of your head. Within seconds, your sword was back in your grasp and you started rolling away. In an instant, the right side of your body spasmed in burning agony as your nerves were singed alive by the thunderous crash of golden lightning.

Your foe, its foot planted where your body laid just a moment ago and coursing with lightning, slowly turned its head to look down at you. Its hollow eyes burned through you.

By then, your dented shield had already left your grasp, flying true as if it was an arrow loosened by a sturdy bow. Like a rotting fruit, it was battered aside, flung far out of your reach.

You expected as much. If your previous attempts had taught you anything, it was that your shield was like wood before this giant’s blow.

Holding your blade with both hands, the flurry of slashes you unleash was met blow for blow by the tarnished shaft of the spear, always battered away, never hitting your foe. When your attacks stopped, your body rolled almost by instinct.

The sword-like blade of the spear fell down in a titanic chop that would’ve bisected you. A trail of small harmless arcs of lightning are followed by each swing of the giant weapon as if it were thunder made real in the giant’s black hands.

As you rolled out of the way, your sword was a sliver of steel as it slashed upwards at the exposed arms of your foe and blood that was not yours was drawn.

Your foe looked at the bead of blood that dripped down his arm, a slight cut made by your blade. Safe for the moment, you brought up the pommel of your blade close to your face, your dripping blade pointed at your foe.

You didn't waste another moment. Rushing forward, you aimed to sever its leg with a single powerful swipe of your sword.

Instead, it was knocked out of your hand once again and the foot that you aimed for sent you flying, your arm cracking and breaking under the blow. The clouds were of no comfort as you felt your bones break and splinter, a deluge of blood flooding your lungs without warning. You only stopped when you hit something hard and fleshy.

It was an effort to try and swallow the tasteless liquid of the Estus as you drowned in your own blood, but you managed to get just enough down that you could finally breathe normally. You placed the now empty flask on your side and you heard something clatter towards you.

Your blade, stained a faint red with blood that wasn’t yours, was suddenly by your head. Grabbing it by the leatherbound handle, you forced yourself up to your knees as you were looked down upon by your foe’s emotionless empty eye sockets.

Despite yourself, you found yourself bowing your head slightly. In thanks or something else, you couldn’t tell. Your foe didn't grant you the same gesture, merely waiting for you to stand up which you do shortly.

A moment passed where the downfall of rain washed away the blood kept on your blade and deepened the stains of crimson on your clothes. A moment passed as the clouds of your foe whipped and roared around you, emptying your mind of thoughts besides the battle right now.

No slow breath escaped your lips. No sigh, no words. Your heart was steady and so were your hands.

As long as your heart beat, you could still fight. As long as your hands could still grip a weapon, you could still fight.

And if you could still fight, you could still win.

The rain stopped and your foe struck.

It closed the distance between the two of you with a powerful lunge and you were once again saved by your honed instinct as the clouds were parted by the force of the electrifying blow. You rushed in, blade poised.

Dodging a backhanded blow that displaces the air, your blade once again bit hard into his tough flesh, making another cut into his arm but that was not your main goal. With tense arms and strength filling your limbs, you cut a bloody swathe towards your foe.

Sparks flew as your blade met the dragon scale armour of your foe, unable to cut through the armour for a brief moment before it give way, cracking slightly. With a grunt of effort, blood not your own spurted free and the rain-droplets that dripped from your helmet turned crimson for a brief moment.

Despite the wound, you still felt the air crackle with power and your hand darted to a certain object, held within your fragile container.

You risked looking up to see your foe’s one raised hand crackling with a thunderstorm in his palm. His empty eye sockets looked down at you, a cold expression on its face as the raging thunder turned into a spear-like object. Once again, something twinged in your mind but you ignored it as you tried to step back, hoping to minimise the damage.

It was futile of course. You had overplayed your hand this time to score a single blow, but that was fine. You were but Ash, after all.

Your foe brought the spear of godly thunder down and your world turned to pain.

You didn't know when you stopped spasming. You didn't know when your armour became fused to your skin in a disgustingly abhorrent display of metal and flesh. Your tongue bubbled and boiled in your mouth, turning to gristle and your eyes popped and squirted into dribbling fluid. Your teeth crackled and broke under the heat, popping in your mouth like Firebombs.

Your hand remained closed around the pommel of your sword despite it all. You still needed it, after all.

You died quickly. Such a powerful attack would’ve been dangerous at range, let alone right on top of you.

And once again, you breathed new life into your lungs. But this time, you were not at the bonfire. You were face down in your sticky blood that stretched and boiled. A small noticeable warmth could be felt in your left hand before it seeped into nothing once more. Specks of fire and embers licked at your armour. A small ring of fire surrounded your prone body and it only went away as you stood up once more.

You were just Ash, seeking Fire. But for now, Fire had sought you.

Your foe stared at you, his clenched fist shaking with golden lightning and your mind twinged, stronger this time for some reason. Behind your helmet, you scowled slightly at the distraction, but you simply gripped your blade once more, a firey sort of vigour flooding your limbs now.

Ash you may be, but you will be triumphant over this foe. You didn't know why you have to be, but something pushed you onward against this foe and it will not stop, no matter how many times you fall.

The foe gripped his spear with both hands and lunged towards you, a deluge of wind following his charge.

You knew this move. You’ve seen it before. You’ve been killed by it before.

If you failed, the Ember of the First Flame would be wasted and you would’ve accomplished nothing.

You gripped the handle of your sword tight, the beating of your heart drumming in your ears.

The shadow of death fell upon you and your feet dashed to the side.

You let out a grunt as the blade tears your armour asunder and your blood spurted out freely, pain blossoming as sparks made your nerves tremble with agony.

But you weren't dead.

The blade of the spear was laid flat and low. Perfect.

Your foe watched you as your raised foot slammed on the giant weapon and for once, you didn't have to look up at your foe to meet their eye. Using its spear as a stepping stone, your foot slammed on the cross handle and your blade was raised high.

Blood not your own spurted out once more and something fell to the ground just as surely as the rain did. In the moment you struck, you were sent flying by the spear being wrenched from the ground. Instead of getting impaled like you expected, you were instead allowed to stand back up and gaze upon your foe.

Its crown had been split in two by your blow and its head was bleeding with a long, deep cut that let you see the bone of his skull. Despite the mortal wound, your foe simply lifted his hand to his head and looked down at his fingertips, wet with blood.

He looked down at you, his hollow eyes giving you nothing. He turned his back to you and strides towards his fallen Wyvern. The idea of attacking him from behind did enter your mind, but you decided on a better course of action.

Grabbing your talisman, you once again recited an ancient oath along with one that told of healing and soothing the ill. Your wound was closed and your pain disappeared while strength renewed your body.

Standing up, you saw the rider look upon his mount, his hand stroking one of its horns. He lifted his spear up, but hesitated for a moment.

You began to recite another tale under your lips and lightning came to your hand once again. As you raised up your hand, your foe struck.

A vortex of wind and lightning erupted from nowhere. No, not from nowhere.

It came from him.

You had to cover your eyes from the whipping winds and your sword was almost knocked from the grip of your hand. The tale on your lips wobbled and almost petered out, but you managed to power through as you mumbled the words out.

The vortex died down. The winds went still and the rain stopped.

But the lightning remained.

Your foe crackled with power. His spear was alive with the thrum of thunder and lightning and the skies darkened in his presence.

Your mind didn't twinge so much as it pulsed with something from the mists of the ages. You shook your head, getting rid of the numb pain as you lifted your Great Lightning Spear and threw it at your foe.

It struck home, but he didn't so much as flinch at the cascade of lightning. In response, he lifted up his own hand and your mind pulsed once again.

Just like yourself, a spear of lightning formed in his grasp. Unlike yourself, it was not a bolt of bright yellow lightning. It was a deep golden colour that mesmerises you for a brief instant, though you didn't know why.

He threw it at you and you barely managed to dodge the lightning spear due to your own muddling mind clouding your instincts. Was it poison? A curse of some kind? Something attacking your senses?

You didn't have any time to figure it out as you felt your hairs stand on edge and the clouds above you crackled and roared. Again, you threw yourself to the side as a stake of lightning struck your location from high above, the sound of crashing thunder filling your ears.

You looked at your foe, his hand brushing the side of his spear in an almost gentle fashion, his empty eye sockets flashing with thick arcs of lightning. You ignored the thumping inside your mind and charged against your foe, blade poised.

He swept his spear across the clouds and they answered in turn. Rushing towards you, a windy wall of hard and sharp winds that would tear apart stone and flesh alike.

You ignored how shards of your armour are embedded deep in your arm, the pain making you grimace. Still, you ran towards your foe.

Each step mattered. Each second mattered.

Another golden spear of sunlight, another dodge. Your arm was blown clean off, disintegrated. You stumbled for a second before you kept running forward. The nerves of your stump sang out in pure agony and you carried on running.

He was close now. Your mind was close to bursting open for reasons unknown to you, but you ignored it.

You swung your sword, one last strike to end it all.

The sound of metal meeting lightning crashed out, followed by your sword breaking apart. The golden spear was swung and your blade broke, leaving only a jagged piece of steel and the hilt.

You’ve used worse weapons.

Twisting your weapon into a reverse grip, you didn't stop your momentum.

Only to find yourself held aloft to the sky, blood pouring out of your mouth. You blinked a few times as the pain registered in your addled mind. The golden spear that crackled with the lightning of the gods has ran you through and not even an Ember could save you now.

Despite yourself, you gritted your teeth until they chip. Despite yourself, you refused to die just yet.

Your foe brought you close to his face. Blood poured down his face and his hollow eyes stared through you.

“Prove thyself.”

You didn't know why, but those words caused your mind to hurt far worse than the spear impaling you right now. You snarled through your lips and you looked upon your foe, so close now. So vulnerable.

You looked upon him and knew him. Your eyes widened in sickening realisation as your broken sword was raised high and fell down in a mighty arc. Blood not your own spurted out skyward and a shout escaped from the lips of someone.

You fell down, the spear’s heavy weight almost tore you in twain. He fell down as well, holding his torn open neck and the broken sword fell down through the clouds, to the lands below.

You remembered the last bit now. The tale of the Great Lightning Spear. A tale of how Gwyn’s Firstborn fought the Dragon’s with his great-spear. It was a miracle only offered to a group of warriors that followed his example, despite all that had happened to him.

The Warriors of Sunlight. A noise escaped your throat and you looked upon him one last time.

“Forgive me,” You begged him in a broken voice as he dropped to his knees, divine blood flowing down his form from the wounds that you’ve inflicted.

He didn't say anything. He looked down upon you with empty eyes as your vision darkened and coldness began to claim you.

He pointed down, below the clouds that were slowly dying just like you. You didn't even have energy to turn your head as you finally began to die once more.

In the distance, you heard some words spoken from a voice of rumbling thunder, but you could only catch certain bits of it:

“...'re than Ash.”

When you lived again, you were not at a bonfire you recognized. It was a different one, one that was basking in the warm gentle glow of the sun. You sat still for a moment, basking in the warmth and glow of fire and sun both, unwilling and unable to move. Your hand went to your chest, reaching into your chest plate as you pulled out two objects that you’ve kept for some reason.

It was a leather badge of the sun, yellowed and ageing. Another was a shiny bronze coin, warm to the touch. Emblazoned with the same symbol of the sun, it fills you with...dread? Sadness? You didn't know why, but you couldn’t bear to part with these items at the start.

And now that feeling was stronger than ever. It will be a reminder of penance, you thought. For what you’ve done.

Despite your heavy heart, you rose up from the bonfire and walked towards a certain location. The bell you once rang was high above you, rusted and destined to fall to pieces. You walked to where he pointed and you saw something.

Kneeling down, you asked for forgiveness once more. And once more, silence was your answer.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Ashen One. Are thou well?"

Opening your eyes once more, you found yourself back at Firelink Shrine. The ever-present taste of ash and cinder that lay on your tongue was a familiar feeling. As always, the Firekeeper was standing close by, her head bowed to you.

You nodded your head at the Firekeeper and despite her lack of eyes, you saw her smile softly at your answer.

"You?" You simply asked, your voice quiet. She nodded at your question and you found yourself glad for it.

"Ashen One, thou have gathered powerful souls once more. Does thou wish to take nourishment, once again?" The Firekeeper asked you softly, but you simply shook your head.

"Later," You said to her and she bowed her head to you, saying nothing else. Standing up from the bonfire, you grabbed the large spear by your side, walking to one of the thrones that dominate the shrine.

And the only Lord of Cinder you won't have to kill.

"My friend," Ludleth of Courland said with geniality, his hands clasped together and under his chin, his dark eyes like flecks of dying flame watching you, "It seems this time, thou have brought me a most interesting soul."

You answered him with a slow, almost reluctant nod. You placed the Dragonslayer Spear down at his burnt stump, a small soft smile on his weathered face.

"This is a powerful weapon already, Ashen One and one, I imagine, is of great import to you. To transpose it will require a truly powerful soul."

You once again nodded to him and with a clasped hand to your chest, it came out.

It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Even the stronger souls you had come across are like embers. Corrupted things that had diminished over the eons.

They were nothing compared to this soul. It was like comparing a mild breeze to a thunderstorm of the Gods. It was like comparing a dying torch to the glorious sun.

It was his soul, after all. It was only to be expected.

"It seems that crestfallen coward was not wrong after all," Ludleth mused to himself, his words striking a chord with you. You looked around for a moment and saw that one of the inhabitants of the Shrine was gone.

"Hawkwood left soon after sharing what he knew with thee," Ludleth said, making you frown behind your helmet, his tone of slight distaste, "I expect we won't see him again. Just as well, I suppose. That one would endanger others for sake of being something most wondrous'r than himself."

You made a mental note to look for Hawkwood later. You didn't know how strong he was, but he was Unkindled, just as you.

However, first things first.

Ludleth took the holy soul from your grasp, treating it with care and respect. He looked at it for a moment, his gaze full of wonder before he looked to you, a questioning look on his face.

"Would thou like to hear the story of this soul, Ashen One? It is quite a tragic tale, however."

"Please."

Ludleth blinked at you as you remained kneeling before him, the powerful soul in his feeble grasp. He let out a dry chuckle, his fiery eyes of ember staring at you.

"Ah, thou finally deigns to speak with me and it is 'please'? How can I refuse then?"

"It is a tale of a son going against his father's wishes. It is a tale of how he saw something majestic and wished for it to never end. A tale of how, a god of war, fought against those he called family for his beliefs. He is a nameless king, ruling over a nameless land, such is the reward for failure."

Ludleth's voice turned sombre and low and as he spoke, the Dragonslayer Spear laid at his feet began to crackle with lightning. The soul of the Nameless King disappeared and flowed into the crackling spear as if fed. The transposing kiln by Ludleth's side churned and turned with a deep darkness, staring at you.

With the soul fully gone and drained into the weapon, the Dragonslayer Spear turned into something else. A large great-spear of tarnished gold and symbols of eras long gone. You brushed your fingers across the large blade, your breath hitching as you felt the lightning come to meet your grasp.

It didn't hurt.

"A weapon worthy of a Lord, my friend," Ludleth said, impressed, as you lifted the Dragonslayer Swordspear in your own grasp, lightning crackling along its blade, "Such a weapon deserves a name, doesn't thou think?"

"It is not mine to name," You said to Ludleth, walking off from the little Lord, "I am but Ash, seeking Fire."

"Of course, Ashen One," Ludleth said lightly, waving you off, "Until next time."

Walking down from the thrones, you followed the beating of a hammer, the rhythmic clang of metal meeting metal. The blacksmith of Firelink, Andre of Astora, watched you approach with a wry grin as he looked upon your new weapon.

"A fine weapon, Ashen One. Maybe this one you won't break so carelessly, eh?" Andre said, his voice rough and gravelly as you gave him a nod. He let out a deep laugh, stopping his hammer for a moment.

"How can I be of assistance, Ashen One?"

Reaching around to your waist, you brought around an object of shining gold. It was a helmet, burnt and torn asunder. Faintly, it resembled a lion with a plume of red air sticking out the back.

"Armour, eh? I know of only one warrior that wore this kind of armour," Andre said roughly, his smile dipping into a frown. He took the helmet from your grasp, looking it over. He turned his steely gaze to you.

"Did you kill him?"

You shook your head and Andre let out a sigh, though relieved or disappointed, you couldn't tell.

"I see then. If you don't mind, can you tell me how he died?" Andre asked you and you thought it over for a moment. You didn't know how he died. But you could hazard a guess.

"As he lived. A warrior," You told Andre and you saw his lips twitch at your answer, letting out a dry chortle.

"Aye. Aye, that's good. Bring me the rest, Ashen One. I'll repair it for you."

With that, you let Andre repair the armour of the Dragonslayer and touched the darkness of the Firekeeper, letting the myriad souls of your foes empower you.

"Be careful, Ashen One," The Firekeeper said to you once more as you began to leave the Shrine, her voice gentle and quiet.

You gave her a wordless nod and when you leave on your search once more, you didn't forget the tales of the Firstborn again. Even so, you didn't know how you came to be a Warrior of Sunlight and you probably never will.

But never again, will you forget that you are one. This armour and this spear will be your constant reminder.

Of that, you will be sure.