Our first adventure

We stood above the corpse of Aldrich, the foul mire that once rushed through her ancient veins now lay dark and forlorn across the stones. Or'do stood with greatsword slung over his shoulder, blood like clotting pitch flowing along its keen edge.

"This is useless." He murmured, his smooth baritone startling me, so seldom had he employed it.

"What you mean?" I was perplexed if not  bewildered. "We just slew the last Lord of Cinder that stood  between us and the Kiln of the First Flame!"

"And when you reach the First Flame, what will you do?"

"Link it of course!"

"Then..?" He pressed, obviously expecting some damning response on my part.

"Then I am reborn again in a new world, to slay once more the traitorous Lords and link the Flame once more." I wondered now, dared hope even, that perhaps he shared my distaste in this endless cycle.

"And you see no fault in it?"

"Should I?" I elected to stride carefully here; certainly, this was a path with as many crippling pitfalls as cobblestones.

"Yes!" Flame blazed in the molten depths of his silver eyes, which glinted like poured mercury as he gestured emphatically. "You are a slave to their whims, Aleorn! There is no end to these parallels, no end to the Kilns and no end to your fight. Do you not tire of it all?"

A strange, anxious heat swelled in my breast. I exhaled, steam roiling over my parched lips, and dared for the first time speak without falsehood or avoidance.
[Listen to this]
 "Every day." My tone was grim, hard as the steel of my sodden blade, and just so dangerously keen. "I've long yearned to end this cycle, to break free of the shackles with which I was born and must forevermore live."

"Then do it!" He clasped my shoulder, his strength flowing through me like the ember's warmth that pulsed through my ignited skin. "We can break free, Aleorn. You and I, can change this world."

I smiled beneath my helm. "Perhaps I am going mad, Or'do, for I believe you."

Post 6

We had strode on in silence for a time; seeking another bonfire by whose warmth we could rest. Here to, he defied the laws that governed most Phantoms, remaining at my side until death temporarily tore him from me.

"You spoke of breaking the cycle, Ordo," I exhaled softly, the bonfire's spasming flames quivering beneath my undead breath. "But we cannot so much as imagine why it was created."

"Whatever it was that created the Flame, and the Lords to govern it, forged this cycle to trap us here. They fear us, or perhaps are merely wary." He mused. "The Flame burned away the darkness, and the Lords were those strong enough to survive it, and wield its strength. Whether Dragon with scale of stone, or beast for which we haven't name nor mind vast enough to grasp, all were cast down, and the Flame reigned. Beyond that, I know not why the cycle was born, only that there exist a countless if not numberless multitude of worlds parallel to this one; the frenzy of guarding the Flame, binds us as surely as any cage."

"Then how," I asked, leaning forward to peer through dancing flames and into his no less radiant eyes. "How do we free ourselves?"

He shrugged. "I've slain countless Lords in my time, and for it only pale understanding has dawned. This I know: we must slay the Firekeeper, replace her with another more suited to our cause, one who is no pawn over the Flame."

"Yuria?" I asked warily.

"Not her, yet in time she shall be part of our plans as well."

"I do not trust her," I murmured. "There is a darkness, a hatred about her that unnerves me."

"There, is a sentiment I understand well. In time you will come to understand her, to know her. The  animosity she harbors is not toward our kind, nor the Lords, but those who bound us here; it is they for whom she reserves her true wrath."

"If not Yuria, then who?"

"One who is steeped in the light, a teacher of miracles who can if given the power, take mantle of Firekeeper." He said enigmatically.

"Irina of Carim?"

"Aye."

"Slay the Firekeeper and replace her; no easy task."

"Few tasks of importance, are easy, my friend." Ordo murmured. "And those that are, seek only to delude and lure."

Post 7

Or'do stood, gesturing for me to follow. Around us lay the broken ruins of the Abyss Watchers, and before us, the far wall retracted, revealing a passage beyond. The Catacombs of Carthus, lair of Wolnir and grave of the fools who dared challenge him, now opened wide its stone jaws to receive yet more victims.

Sparks rang out, painting the edge of his trailing blade in pale radiance that shone like the crescent of the setting Sun, as he strode onward, dragging the massive Ultra-great sword as if it had suddenly become to cumbersome to lift. Cautiously, I followed him; this was not my first descent into the catacombs, yet those initial ventures had left me battered and weary, my blood painting the stones like a river of scarlet. Hordes of skeletal beasts had set upon me, and with ragged blade they brought me low, laughing hollowly at my plight.

Yet Ordo had no fear; he charged in with a terrifying silence clinging about him. Like an arc of cast sunlight, his massive blade screamed along the stone, grinding into a devastating swing that cleaved his foe asunder before its empty skull had yet to register the movement. Onward he charged, leaping along several jutting scraps of stone that formed natural stairs along the descent, each landing punctuated with the shrill wail of ravenous steel crunching through bone.

We surged onward, our blades igniting the air in a tempest of shattered foes and rippling light; each thunderous peal outlined in ribbons of spark and pale white dust. Through the corridor we burst, our blazing eyes burning all the brighter with the intoxicating thrill of battle. Before our fevered gaze loomed three hunched figures clad in ragged cloth with eyes of shining ruby.

I charged before they had so much as turned, my blade raking along the ground and cleaving through the nearest, heaving his torso to shatter on the rough stones, as his legs crumpled lifelessly. Or'do rushed past me, even I as was rising from the crouch into which the indomitable weight of my own strike had flung me,  his own weapon burning down from on high, reducing a hollow skull to dust, leaving its owner to collapse like an abandoned marionette.

Twisting on my leading foot, I launched myself past him, a streak of broad, dazzling light hammering against the monster's stomach, staggering it. This was the only opening Or'do needed: he lunged in behind me, his blade spearing through its clavicle, and pinning the monster to the flagstones. It dissolved, leaving us to rejoice in the glory of battle.

Post 8

We stood before the gate to High Lord Wolnir's realm; yet before I could lay hand upon its corroded surface, Or'do had already strode past, an iron sole cleaving the door in two and hurling its remains far into the chamber beyond.

"Rise, Wolnir, that we may strike you down!" He bellowed, backhanding the cursed goblet and spilling its vile mist into the chamber.

Wolnir woke, and in anger he slammed skeletal fists upon the earth, his jaws wide in a hateful bellow. Carthus rouge gleamed along our mighty blades as we stalked forward, undeterred by the opaque vapors roiling beneath his jutting ribs.

I twisted beneath his massive hand, surging forward in a crouch with blade of midnight screeching across the earth behind me. Heat blazed through my arms as I slashed, my blade's keen edge dancing against his gilded bracelet. Recognition dawned in his ancient eyes, and in fear he drew back that withered hand, yet too late was he: Or'do slid beneath me, his armoured legs wringing sparks from the cold earth. He leaped over my hunched form, and with his weight drove the edge of his own blade through Wolnir's arm with a horrible, dry crunch like a thousand autumn leaves sundered underfoot.

Wolnir reeled, screeching in agony. His remaining hand scrabbled at the earth, grasping in desperation, yet neither Or'do nor I permitted him time to gather himself. I had already wrenched my blade free, and sprinting with body held low, I pivoted on my leading foot, slashing wide across his remaining arm, cracking his bracers and rattling his ancient bones. Or'do lunged in beside me, slashing wide and deepening the sinuous cracks that glowed like rivers of molten iron upon the curved gold.

One last cry of terror and desperation, then Wolnir's bracer gave, his arm splintering away beneath it. Helpless, he slid into the abyss from whence he had came. I bent in a slight bow toward Or'do, who silently replied in kind. Straightening, he grasped my shoulder, and with eyes of the eclipsed Sun, gazed into my soul.

"The time draws near, Aleorn. Those who yet stand in our way shall crumble before us. I bid thee return now to the shrine, make the preparations for the Firekeeper's ruination."

"It shall be done." I assured him. "It shall be done."

After slaying the High Lord, we found a barren realm; Aldrich we had slain first, and the Pontiff had himself, fled. Or'do indicated that his mattered not, for in the course of our brief journey, we had gained all the ashes of fallen Lords. This was all we required. How we passed by Wolnir first, was something I dared not question; Or'do had merely knelt as if in prayer, and when we rose, it was in the company of Aldrich.

It was thus, that I strode back to the Shrine without fear. A few final preparations and we shall begin the usurpation. First, I went to Irina of Carim, and with ice in my veins, trepidation heavy on my shoulders, I apologized for what I must do. As she imparted the holy miracles, her own light burned with furious heat; I feared that perhaps the darkness of my own heart, would be the death of me, that the Fire knew of our betrayal, and would render the life from me in its fury. Then, the sensation passed, and looking up her, I knew that she was no longer the woman I lifted from the gloom so long ago.  Her power flooded through me, giving me the strength for that which must come next.

I stood, darkness visible only to my troubled eyes, swirling around me like a cloak tattered from its adventures. "Thank you," I whispered, then on the verge of collapse, "I am so sorry for what I must do, for what I must force upon you."

If she understood my meaning, she gave no sign. Smiling still, she bid me well, and with steps heavy as the stones from which this place was forged, I strode back to the true Keeper.

Standing before the Keeper, I trembled, fear setting me alight with flames cold as glacial ruin. Her eyeless stare unnerved me, impressed upon me that somehow, she could see, she could know what we planned.

"How many Lords have you slain?" Or'do had asked as we rested in the humble warmth of a bonfire.

"Three worlds worth, yet what difference does it make?"

As if quoting something he had read, something etched or scribed long ago, Or'do's tone lost its usual luster. "If thou a thousand Lords slay, their Flame shall bend, and the Light shall ebb at thy call"

"What does that mean?" I asked, peering through the sinuous flames, yet seeing nothing in his unreadable gaze.

"That when the Keeper casts their remains upon you, a portion of their power takes root within you. Slay enough, and you shall command the Flame."

"How many?!" 

He spread his hands. "I myself have cleared four worlds, and like you, sense their power only when I search for it."

Peering inside myself, I found indeed a small warmth that was not my own; a seed of immolation yet unseen that pulsed with delight at my touch. 

"To what end?" I murmured.

"Call upon their power. The Keeper reforms, yet with their might, I feel that you may find and devour the Keeper's soul."

She smiled, gesturing that I should kneel, and receive the Lords' ashes once more. I complied, the chill in bones intensifying with each breath. As their power flowed over me, I drew upon that seed, that ember buried deep inside; furious power swelled through me, burning outward in long, serpentine vines that thrashed and writhed along my body. I stood, and wordlessly plunged my bare fist into the space above her left breast, where her heart lay. White flame curled along the length of my buried forearm, and in the innocent shock on her features, I could restrain my tears no longer. I bowed my head and wept, resting my scalp against her trembling frame, and when collapsing to, she whispered to me, her words only intensified my suffering.

"I do not blame thee, Ashen One. Thou does only what thou believes to be right."

Or'do rose from the gleaming seam of glyphs, his silver mantle glittering like a cloak of mercury that shone merrily even in this foul, choked light. I looked upon him with anger still molten in my dark eyes.

"Is it done?" He asked this warily, expecting the answer.

"She would have joined us!" My fists trembled helplessly at my sides. "She would have helped us!" Shattering, stumbling, my voice all but failed, and in a cracking whisper I managed: "She did not need to die."

"It was not that she would resist us; indeed I have thrice extinguished the Flame from my past worlds. It is more that she is a tool of those who bind us; the eye through which they view us; the hand that holds us back. Whether she knew it or not, she would indeed betray our cause. Rest easy, my friend: there are a thousand thousand worlds that lie beside this one, and each host to its own Keeper."

"But not her," I growled. "Not the one I slew. She will never rise again."

"Perhaps, but is not an exact copy bearing the same memories, still her?"

"In some pale, twisted sense." I conceded. "Yet not in mine."

He exhaled softly. "Your wounds shall mend. I shan't deepen them with comforting words that achieve only the opposite. Know that she lives on within you now, if that suits you. Or moreover, that the sundering of this cycle, the extirpation of our ancient foe, is worth more than any single life."

I shook my head, seeing a shade of his wisdom, yet failing to grasp it so firmly, so devoutly as he. Gloved still in a pale white flame that retreated evermore into my flesh, my hand gestured vaguely toward the yawning threshold atop this rugged hill; the lair of the Soul of Cinder.

"We should slay him and be done with it."

"Aye, yet if slay him we do, linger here you should." This quirk of his, switching the order of select words, I had noticed previously, yet in my present state had not the patience to remark on it. "I have neglected my own worlds in our conquest of yours; would you join me in the domination of mine?"

"Of course," I said. "We've a link to establish between all worlds; to progress in yours furthers the same end as mine."

We ascended then, and as we stood before that bleak threshold where mist swirled and its liquid chaos reigned, I felt a strange sense of trepidation wash over me. Perhaps not this time, yet in the future, this place would be the death of one of us, and only time would reveal which.

Before we entered, I turned to Or'do one last time, gazing into those deep, haunted eyes.

"I am sorry," I rasped. "I am far too weak for this."

"Far from it!" He clasped me by the shoulder, his blazing eyes holding my gaze as iron is snared by a magnet. "Your discomfort emboldens me, gives me hope. For the longest time, as I strove on alone, I thought that I must cast aside the last of my humanity to save this realm. Seeing that you can still feel, still be unnerved and saddened, gives me hope that we can survive this in more than body alone."

I smile weakly. "My thanks, Or'do"

"Keep them!" He laughed again, a sound that was this time warm with true mirth. "I feel you'll need them more than I in the days to come."

Shaking my head at the enigma of his words, I pressed a gloved hand against the quivering wall, and passed through with a single, confident step.

The Soul rose, his burning sword carving a crescent of radiance through the air as he swept it from his side, and with long, swift gait advanced. Or'do immediately twisted past me, pivoting still as his upraised hand caught the monster's weapon. His bicep flexed and bulged beneath his cloak, glowing with heat that only intensified as he wrenched the blade aside; bringing his own to bear with a single fluid movement. Like a radiant spear of light, his greatsword punched through the Soul's glowing abdomen, spraying cinder and ash across the stones, and with eyes wide in shock, he retreated a pace.

I gave him not a breath of respite: pivoting on my leading foot, I spiraled past, using my momentum to add strength to my sword as it hammered against his stomach with terrifying strength. Again, he staggered, and again he fell to his knees. Knowing all too well that which came next, I rolled dexterously aside, the blinding corona of flame that swelled from him doing little more than warming my soles.

Instantly I pivoted, my blade wailing as it cleaved air, and shrieking as it grated against the bone of his thigh, piercing deep and nearly severing the limb. He screamed now, crumbling to his knees; the perfect invitation and the only that Or'do needed: he surged past me, his weapon traced with a crescent of moonlight as it came arching up into the monster's throat. The Soul's eyes bulged, this time with agony as much as terror. I take no pride in that mine was the last face he saw, as I stepped past Or'do, who lifted the now slack Soul by his shattered throat, baring its now shallowly rising chest. One last crunch of steel on bone, and the light was wrenched from his eternal eyes. The soul collapsed, and burned to nothingness in a radiant flash.

Once more, we had conquered a world, and once more defying a Phantom's place, he knelt with me as I seated myself before the First Flame, and with my body linked it.

I knelt before the heat of yet another bonfire, waiting upon the High Wall of Lothric for Or'do to conjure me. Despite the ever more trying nature of these infinite realms, I could not imagine Gundyr as much of a threat to someone as mighty as my comrade; whether such an observation was mere hubris, or the enlightened words of one well aware of his allies' capabilities, I would soon learn. Before me, the gilded glyphs that offered my service, burned away, and with a startling lurch, I was torn from my realm into his.

Raising my arms overhead in the typical manner of those aligned with the Sunlight covenant, I rose from the earth before him as if it were little more than water thickened with blood and silt.

"Whom shall we slay?" I asked, tilting at the waist in a shallow bow, which he readily returned.

"The Dancer by far one of our more difficult foes is. I suggest that we slay her before moving on to the easier task of Vordt."

"I've known clods more troublesome than he," I said, nodding my assent. With that, we set out, easily smashing undead to wisps of smoke and shattered bone beneath our blades, the force of our blows hurling them against the farthest wall, offering a gruesome spectacle not unlike that of a melon dropped from great height.

Swiftly we carved our way through the realm, and in short order stood before her gate; its smouldering veil ominous only to those unfamiliar with combat, or perhaps less mighty than we. Or'do neither paused nor voiced concern of any shade, merely passed through the door, and bid that I do the same. Carthus rouge shimmered along our weapons' notched yet infallibly keen edges as we stood defiant before her.

I knelt before the heat of yet another bonfire, waiting upon the High Wall of Lothric for Or'do to conjure me. Despite the ever more trying nature of these infinite realms, I could not imagine Gundyr as much of a threat to someone as mighty as my comrade; whether such an observation was mere hubris, or the enlightened words of one well aware of his allies' capabilities, I would soon learn. Before me, the gilded glyphs that offered my service, burned away, and with a startling lurch, I was torn from my realm into his.

Raising my arms overhead in the typical manner of those aligned with the Sunlight covenant, I rose from the earth before him as if it were little more than water thickened with blood and silt.

"Whom shall we slay?" I asked, tilting at the waist in a shallow bow, which he readily returned.

"The Dancer by far one of our more difficult foes is. I suggest that we slay her before moving on to the easier task of Vordt."

"I've known clods more troublesome than he," I said, nodding my assent. With that, we set out, easily smashing undead to wisps of smoke and shattered bone beneath our blades, the force of our blows hurling them against the farthest wall, offering a gruesome spectacle not unlike that of a melon dropped from great height.

Swiftly we carved our way through the realm, and in short order stood before her gate; its smouldering veil ominous only to those unfamiliar with combat, or perhaps less mighty than we. Or'do neither paused nor voiced concern of any shade, merely passed through the door, and bid that I do the same. Carthus rouge shimmered along our weapons' notched yet infallibly keen edges as we stood defiant before her.

The Dancer loomed over us, her flaming blade poised to shatter our frail bodies; yet we remained unmoved. I lunged, the broad edge of my greatsword grinding against her slender, crooked weapon. Or'do surged in to my left, his sword grating against her abdomen with a horrid crack of sundering armour and shattering bone. She screamed in anguish, stumbling back and slashing wide, catching me beneath the arm, and hurling Or'do aside like nothing more than a child's plaything abandoned in sudden disinterest.

Silent he lay, dark blood curling ominously over his parched lips, his breath ragged and haggard. Pain blazed like a river of fire beneath my arm, yet all the same, I staggered back to my feet, listing badly and hunched as if my spine rather than my shoulder had been shattered. Agony rolled out from my fractured clavicle, flowing into the inferno of mangled flesh and ground bone that remained where I had once boasted an arm. I reached for my Estus flask, yet she gave me no respite, twisting her entire body as she lunged, her momentum driving that titanic blade against my flesh with devastating power, turning my breath to marbles of broken glass that seared my throat with each gasp.

Or'do cried out in rage, and lowering his Estus flask, whose soothing warmth still clung to his lips, and glowed calmly within his throat, he bellowed a challenge. The flames in his eyes emboldened me, and with a defiant scream I surged back to my feet, forsaking the comfort of Estus to strike in the Dancer's moment of confusion and perhaps fear.

My blade crunched against her shoulder, throwing her to the stones with a satisfying crack! She struggled and gasped, clawing the flagstones in desperation, yet her moment of weakness was all my comrade needed: his blade an arc brighter than the rising Sun, he sprang. Like a scythe of blinding radiance, the greatsword slashed through her neck, and with one last shuddering spasm, the Dancer fell into Death's eternal shadow.

We rested before the soothing warmth of a bonfire well earned. The dancer's realm lay benighted around the pale halo cast by the flame's intoxicating warmth. Where ribbons of tattered flesh had once lay, my arm now gleamed bare, yet renewed; it was upon this that Or'do gazed, his eyes distant as the vaulted ceiling and just so dark.

"I asked too much of you." He rasped. "I pressed you too hard, forced you farther than I should. And now you nearly perished."

"So did you," I reminded him gently. "Besides, our kind rise again no matter how many times we fall. They only hold back the inevitable when beneath their blades we crumple."

"Pain and suffering linger all the same." He said bleakly. "And as we approach whatever Truth lies beneath the veil, as we near the thrones of those who perpetuate the cycle, our foes will only a thousand times stronger become."

"Then so shall we." Now it was I who leaned forward to clasp his shoulder, praying that my strength would comfort him, reassure him that I was no frail hollow on the precipice of madness and the destruction it promises. "I shan't betray you, now or ever, and not least when our path becomes troubled. If I abandoned you now, what sort of ally would that make me?"

"The wise sort"

"And the craven." I retorted. "This cycle is meant to trap us, is meant to bind us, and neither you nor I will tolerate it. The feeling of hopelessness that comes of knowing how futile it is, that whenever we vanquish the Soul, all that waits is another world laden with the same, if somewhat stronger foes. For the first time in my long life, Or'do, I have reason to hope, and that is more precious to me than anything."

He nodded. "Your words are kinder than I deserve."

"But precisely what you need."

We rose, and descended the hill to where Vordt lurked, cowled in darkness and false bravado. We strode through his gate of fog, and with a series of blows that rang through the chamber like the mournful peals of funeral bells, we crushed him. One last pitiful moan hissed from his ruined body as we strode past without slowing, moving to the precipice where winged undead waited to bear us onward.

"Easy that was," Or'do remarked.

"Indeed, yet I feel that he was one of the easier trials before us."

"Of course he was!" Or'do laughed heartily. "But the others shan't stop us either."

Without consequence had we smashed through the scattered ranks of lumbering, chitinous titan, and staggering undead, and now it was toward the Crystal Sage we sprinted, blades shining like radiant scythes as with relentless abandon they hammered against our robed foes; flinging their ruined forms against the stone walls or farther along the brief ascent at whose peak, the gate of fog loomed.

Or'do grimaced as he slogged through the mist, its many hands clawing him in desperation, clinging to his slender frame. No sooner had he passed through, than his cry of agony was pealing through the air, and boring into my heart like an auger of frost. He screamed again as I clawed and slashed a path into the unnaturally solid mist.

My comrade staggered back, his lean stomach still glittering with the shining remains of a crystal soul spear that had cracked his spine in two, and sprayed his organs across the flagstones. He was straining to rise upon legs that were limb and useless as bands of cloth, and over him loomed the Crystal Sage; somehow, it had not only predicted when he would enter, but had readied its most potent spell to sunder him the moment he appeared. This baffled me, yet my mind was swiftly devoured by the flames of hate and fury. I roared in furious challenge, and as its focus shifted to me, Or'do smashed its robed form with the molten edge of a blade cloaked in flame, instantly staggering the monster, forcing it to genuflect before him. My blade crunched through its jaw, and jutted from the back of its bowed head; and in that swift moment, the ancient Sage knew no more.

I knelt at Or'do's side, yet regenerating already, he had risen without my aid. He coughed, splinters of bone rolling over his parched lips.

"My thanks," He gasped.

"They seem far stronger than usual." Taking his arm, I half dragged him to the restorative warmth of the newly revealed bonfire, and as his features relaxed, pain instantly burned away by its soothing flame.

"Aye. Yet it seems they take far keener interest in destroying me than you."

"Perhaps they know that when you fall, I as a phantom, shall be wrenched back to my rightful place."

"Perhaps," he murmured, rising slowly as if fearing that the pain would suddenly return. "I bid thee take shelter in the Shrine a moment."

"Do you trust me no longer?"

"No, yet I feel that whatever the source of their animosity toward me, shall not be in your presence revealed."

Hesitant, I shook my head in dissent, yet he had already withdrawn a separation crystal, and with the dark light of its bleak, hopeless promise, sent me back to the bitter world I called home.

Or'do strode haggard and weary along the steep ascent at whose peak the Abyss Watchers cowered behind gates like slabs of stone. Around him lay limp and crumpled, the corpses of those who dared stand in his way, each having given nothing more than mute silence when he demanded of them the answers he sought.

Like the primordial roar of thunder, Or'do's iron sole crashed against the seam where the doors met, flinging both wide, and revealing the slender forms of his adversaries. One alone stood atop the crumpled horde, and with a slowness that radiated confidence, it advanced upon him, rugged armour glinting, and notched blade shining dangerously even in the pale light.

Or'do wasted not a moment: his trailing leg tensed, and propelled by its formidable strength, he sprang. His greatsword traced a broad arc through the air, its howl like that of a wounded dragon, its edge shining like the disk of an eclipsed Sun. Yet the Watcher merely skittered aside, the longer counterpart of its twin swords flicking out with the speed of a striking viper, biting deep into his calf and staggering the mighty warrior. Again, its blade crashed against him, and again he staggered, its blows falling upon him like hailstones of iron. Desperately, he swung, yet was once more foiled as the swift guardian merely pivoted aside, its weapon hissing softly as the keen edge grated against his shoulder, twisting his entire body and stealing the last of his balance.

"Useless!" He spat, casting the massive blade aside, and rolling aside as the steel of his foe crashed against the flagstones in a radiant fury of blazing spark and sundered stone. It had no mercy for him; even as he retreated, the Watcher only advanced with all the more potent rage, striking in terrifying abandon, scoring his armour and staining the air with his blood. In desperation, Or'do reached for the nearest of his many weapons, drawing forth a long, slender blade: a claymore whose leather hilt rasped eagerly at his touch, excited and eager for the battle to come.

With volcanic frenzy, Or'do slammed his leading foot against the earth, and sprang without hesitation or fear. Shards of radiance spiraled over its horizontal blade as the two edges met, and with keening wails slid past. Or'do pivoted as he passed, striking at the beast's calf with his trailing foot, and spiraling to drive his blade into the small of its back as the Watcher stumbled. Incredulous, it favoured him with a wide eyed stare, before crumpling to the earth where it lay forevermore. Then, the ashes of its fellows flowed from their barren husks, and filled it with new, conflagrant life. It surged to its feet, and was immediately met with the pommel of Or'do's blade, a diamond of steel that crunched between its eyes.

Or'do slashed again, carving a long diagonal river that wept tears of flame and blood. Howling furiously, the monster surged in, its immolated blade searing the stones as it swept up in a broad arc, that met only air as Or'do pivoted past. He reached out, snaring its neck in the crook of his arm, and allowing momentum to carry his claymore from his hand. Rivers of mercury glinted along the beast's bloodied armour as it struggled beneath him, its breath washing over his arm like shards of heated glass, yet he was unmoved. His free hand pressed against its back, intuitively locating the pulse of its undead heart, and with a grim determination pursuing it: his gloved fingertips sank into its flesh as if passing through congealing honey. Its convulsions became frenetic, desperate, yet nothing could save the Watcher now: Or'do reached deep inside himself, and with his cautious touch woke the Cinder that slept within. Bleak, bleached flames curled like carved ivory along his forearm, reaching deep inside the body of his foe, and bursting free like a thousand thousand blind vipers thrashing in anger and terror.

Smouldering, the Watcher slumped in his grasp, then slid to the flagstones as Or'do relaxed his fingers of steel, releasing it from his arms into those of Death.

Before the Flame, Darkness reigned, and when it fades, Darkness will again seize the world. Yet when the Lords slew those who dwelt in shadow, when Light blazed through void, all had not been exterminated; even in the brightest of light, a splinter of shadow remains. It was this bleakness, this realm blighted and cursed in all tongues, that Or'do beheld as he crumpled, white flames reeling drunkenly from his body, his flesh crumbling away in long, shivering ribbons. The Darkness fled, avoided its destruction, and in this sanctuary they waited. A thousand thousand thousand worlds for just so many parallel realms where the Darkness lurked in patient stasis, waiting the moment when Flame flickered, and in that moment, they would retake this world forevermore.

Or'do reached forward with trembling fingers, dragging himself toward the distant warmth of a yet unlit bonfire, its coals glinting with promise, winking like mirthful eyes as he pulled himself onward. His body seemed wrought of cold, heavy lead, and with each shuddering breath, he felt it grow heavier still.

Ashen vapor hissed over his parched lips as he crumpled, pale flame engulfing his entire body. Pain faded, and his vision turned black as a world without Fire. In his last moments, Or'do realized that his greed, was his downfall; his lust for an end to the cycle, had only consumed him.

I felt his distress, felt his terror burn through me as if it were my own. Or'do was in more than grave peril, his life was at this moment tinder for a most ravenous flame. Anguished, I clawed at the sleek planes of my helm, as if I could tear away metal and bone, could physically rouse my thoughts from their slumber. Then, in my desperation, the groping hand of my consciousness brushed against the cache of power where fallen Lords lay. Their Cinder had become mine, and at once I realized how it was that Or'do moved about this realm with such ease, treading upon Lords' dominion without slaying them, surging through with impossible haste to again challenge the Soul of Cinder.

Heat welled inside me, clawed and thrashed, rending me from within like a demon caged inside my ribs, yet I felt only the bleakest desperation, a cold fire that burned away all other sensation. The Cinder flared, and at once, I knelt beside Or'do. His body was wreathed in white flame, yet beneath the radiant pall, his chest still rose, his soul yet lingered. I felt my own flesh boil and flow as I closed an arm of steel beneath him, and dragged as much as heaved him to the Bonfire's soothing halo. Each step weighed upon me like a mantle of cast iron, each stride slower as pale flame spread from his limp body, devouring my flesh with primordial hunger and devastating frenzy.

Then, we reached the bonfire, and with a half shapeless hand upon the coiled sword's braided pommel, I bid the Flame return. Its warmth banished the white flame, burned away our agony, gave new life to armour pitted and crumpled beneath unimaginable heat, and painted flesh over bared, charred bone. Or'do gasped, drawing a sudden, desperate breath into his once forsaken lungs, and when his eyes focused on me, it was with gratitude if not surprise.

"How did-" His smooth voice shattered into a spasmodic fit of coughing.

"The same way as you" I said, steadying him with a hand of warmth upon his cold, trembling arm. "The Cinder binds us, yet with enough strength, we can exert fleeting dominion over it, and through its power link any location with another, striding fathoms in mere seconds."

Or'do nodded. "Impressive. It took a great deal of time for me to discover that."

"You were alone, lost and drifting as I once was; you gave me renewed reason to fight, and a life of more than mere survival. I felt somehow, your turmoil, your agony, and it gave me inspiration."

"Glad I inspired someone." He muttered, laughing as I reddened in shame. "A joke, my friend!"

"Ah." I gestured vaguely around the darkened chamber, whose walls writhed and seethed with benighted life, stirred to fearful frenzy by the Bonfire's scathing light. "Did you discover what you came here for?"

"More or less." When he did not elaborate, I gestured for him to continue.

"Go on..." I spoke softly, as if fearing that answer.

" The Darkness was not exterminated, was not eliminated, was not burned away as they would have us believe. Indeed it lurks beyond the veil between worlds, a realm somehow a pace sideways from this one."

"Sideways?" I asked incredulously.

"Aye. Yet I cannot know where until the Soul has fallen; his strength will stoke my Cinder, and grant me the power I need."

"You would pursue the twisted creatures?"

"After so long fighting to prevent their return, I think it is at last time," he rose and extended a gloved hand. "To take the fight to them."

He flared his Cinder, burning a rift in the air itself, and with a single stride, we stood before the Soul's mist befouled gate.

"You nearly died a half minute ago, Or'do"

"Yup!" He strode through the fog door before I could protest further.

"So I do not think this is wise" I trailed off, each word quieter than the last. Muttering darkly, I pushed through the mist, shuddering at the touch of a thousand clammy hands, and gazed again upon the Soul's domain. Sickly light drifted from the eclipsed Sun, and beneath it stood a slim creature wreathed in flame and clad in mottled black armour. Its veiled eyes burned like cooling iron as it stood, and without hesitation charged.

Or'do met its sweeping blade with nothing more than his bare hand, and even as the thunderous clang pealed out, and the soil itself exploded around him, he rallied his formidable strength, and flung the monster's weapon aside. I lunged in behind, driving my greatsword into its stomach, yet this time, the Soul twisted aside, and with a deft slash sent me reeling back.

"Use this!" Or'do tossed a claymore toward me, its edge gleaming like flowing mercury even in the grim, sordid light. I caught it by the leather bound pommel, its weight light and its balance perfect. Or'do himself cast aside the titanic blade with which he had a thousand Lords slain, and drew his own far slimmer blade.

Flame wreathed his scalp as he ducked beneath the Soul's sweeping strike, and rolling past, he sliced its ankle, shattering plate and severing tendon with a low, metallic cry. The Soul fell to its knees, and at once I was upon it, slashing wildly, carving long, diagonal rivers of weeping fire and dark blood that pooled like benighted mires along its lean abdomen. The song of steel intensified as it rose once more, a flare of flame forcing us to retreat, yet even as its formidable heat washed over us, we were already charging once more, our blades rasping against the monster's armor, and hissing into the flesh beneath. It crumpled, cursing us with its last breath, bleeding from a thousand wounds, and battered by twice so many blows.

Once again, we had triumphed, yet our trial was far from over: Or'do screamed in agony, white flame erupting from his body, turning his armour to slag and his flesh to dust. He collapsed, his cries slicing through me like cold steel; yet now, I was far from helpless. I flared my Cinder, felt its damning, blighted heat course through me like barbed marbles shredding my veins, tearing me apart from within, and kneeling at his side, I drew its power through me. White flame blazed from my own body, then burst outward in a dark concentric wave like the calm of benighted waters shuddering at the touch of a dropped stone. Or'do's robe of flame shivered and ebbed, extinguished as swiftly as it had burst forth. Exhaustion devoured my consciousness, and as shadow claimed my vision, I fell to lay at his side; beyond us, the Flame faded and we were left cold, bleak, wearied: two dark forms lost in eternal night.

Our Second Adventure: Bloodborne

Something was indeed different about this place. I woke to a body that felt leaden, weary, limbs of cast iron and blood of clotting ash. My Cinder still glowed, yet I knew flaring it would bring nothing save for perhaps a flood of foes in this, a land without Fire.









His words disturbed me, yet I had not time to act, before the darkness stole my sight, and its numbing cowl enveloped my mind.

 

 I shuddered, the outlandish vision chilling me. Within my breast, the Cinder pulsed; perhaps it was amused by my pitiful attempts to defy the Dark, or perhaps it to, was afraid.

I stumbled to my feet, and staggered on. This place reminded me of the Shrine, a last bastion of light in a world where Darkness reigned. Somehow, the Flame had indeed touched this place, long ago, yet for centuries since, it had lain cold and lifeless as the flagstones on which I collapsed, my legs failing me.

In time, I rose again, and dragged myself onward; this place was indeed soured by the Dark, strange beasts grey and emaciated rose in pools from the stones, clutching to their frail chests the molten light of weapons and the promise they held. Tentatively I knelt, yet they offered their bundle without hesitation, and from it I withdrew a weathered ax, that with a dexterous slash became an ashen halberd, its ragged edge glinting like sundered glass in the sickly light, its shaft rugged and beaten beneath my gloved fingers.

I bowed, knowing not whether they would understand my gratitude, and turning on my heel knelt before one of many jutting tombstones, knowing intuitively that this was the Gate between domains much as the bonfire was. Foulness devoured me, and spat my soiled frame back into that realm in which I had first beheld the vision, had first woken into this nightmarish land. Then, I had been devoured, yet now, now it was I who would triumph.

The Darkness had claimed this land, yet by the steel of my blade and the flame of my heart, I would cleanse it. I surged on, laying about with fearless, perhaps reckless abandon and cleaving apart those who dared approach. Then, I learned the strength of Darkness: alone they stutter, they fumble, they perish; yet their power lies in the swarm. Like insects guarding their hive, they overtook me, their battered pitchforks, their notched blades, and their bare fingers tearing me asunder.

Again I woke, and slashing, I lengthened my axe into a halberd, and taking no time to admire the skill of its craftsmanship, I charged once more. Stairs beneath my feet, fire flowing through my veins; breath eager and scorching. Stair turned to flagstone, and again, I found myself before them. Light played along the ragged edge of my blade as I paused a moment, collecting my sanity. For so long I had battled the Dark indirectly; now and at last they were within reach, yet I risked falling into a maddened frenzy, risked losing all in my fervor to slay my long aloof foes. Breath calmed, and chilled as I looked upon their twisted forms milling about a massive bonfire, whose flames devoured the corpses of their own. Where my world the flames offered warmth and comfort, this was a vile heat that I dared not let touch me for long. Even the fire of this world was tainted; perhaps I was as well.

Seldom had I felt so alive, so filled with vitality and purpose as when I descended those steps, and brandishing my rugged blade, cried our in thunderous challenge. Instantly, a bullet tunneled through the air and punched into my shoulder; I knew its name and function inexplicably and as surely as I knew that my own sidearm could do the same. Yet I could not wield the halberd and fire with any hope of accuracy, and trusting my reflexes to spare me from further volleys, I charged in.

I ducked beneath a foe's lunging strike, his battered weapon lashing overhead with a wounded hunting bird's shrill cry. Cinder pulsed in time with my heart as I pivoted around his clumsy thrust, and drove my own blade between his ribs. He crumpled, a curse on his lips and blood curling over his cracked teeth. Another blade hissed past, and its owner was rapidly dispatched, yet they clustered around me now, their weapons rapidly slicing the air, crying out in primal hunger for the blighted blood that swelled in my veins.

Steel tolled with solemn cadence as my armour crumpled beneath their blows, and my own strikes tore limbs from bodies, and splattered foul life across the stones. I was driven to my knees beneath the force of their onslaught, rolling and leaping desperately as steel rained upon me. Once more I fell, and once more I rose; fire in my blood, frost glinting in dark eyes masked by crimson spectacles.

With terrible force, my halberd  crashed through their ranks, hurling back the dark tide, yet like waters compelled by Lunar hand, they merely flooded back in. On my knees again, I slashed wildly, yet this time they did not retreat; several fell, yet not nearly enough.

"Damn!" I scuttled backward, my radiant blade carving a broad arc in the air before me. Again they closed in, their numbers dwindled yet far from extinguished. My back struck stone, and a chord of pain rippled along my spine, clattering through vertebrae and wringing a cry of pain from my burning lungs.

"Or'do." My feet ground against the earth, as swaying wearily I stood. "Have you forsaken me?" Light flared, and the Darkborn before me averted their seared eyes, reeling back with anguished and hateful cries. Or'do rolled from a seam slashed in the stone, his halberd freeing legs from knees and cleaving their numbers as well as their limbs in two.

"Stop being dramatic and take this!" He tossed me a dull, rust mottled bell. "Ring it when you need to summon me again; the Cinder levies a great toll on the body here."

I nodded, and with my comrade at my side, I lowered myself into a steady if shallow crouch. "No matter how strained it is, the Flame will burn the Darkness from this realm."

"Of course it shall." Or'do said. "For we are the ones who wield it."

Or'do lunged without warning, sweeping those who remained with a devastating arc that painted the air shimmering white and glistening scarlet, rupturing gnarled flesh and spilling the toxin within. He lowered his shoulder, permitting momentum to carry him against the last standing acolyte of darkness, his strength alone splitting the man in two and scattering his tattered remains with the force of an armoured ram.

"Come at me!" He bellowed, obviously consumed by the very frenzy my own waning will had so recently thwarted. His challenge was met with sonorous moan and thin, quavering wail as the dying screamed their fury before Death muted their voices and stilled their foul hearts.

Roaring again, Or'do sprinted along the ancient stair, turning sharply and accelerating until once more flagstone relented, and a broad, circular clearing stood before us. He paused not a moment, pivoting on his heel and lunging for the creature that battered against a weathered gate, his blade cleaving its thigh then freeing its head. No sooner had its blood dampened the stones, than he was already in motion once more.

I rallied my voice to warn him, yet found that the thrill of frenzied battle had stolen my breath. Instead, I surged in after him, my blade crushing the nearest foe, and splitting a lunging hound's jutting spine, producing a horrid crack like twigs sundered underfoot. Another ascent, and we stood upon a long bridge at whose far end loomed a door of fog not unlike those that marked Lords' domains in our homeland. Crawling in low stance, two creatures -an unholy mixture of man and wolf- turned their lantern eyes upon us, and with low growl advanced.

My blade swung wide, yet it bounded aside, and lunged with ragged claws leading, and dark maw looming behind. I sensed my doom seconds before it found me: a twisting pivot wrenched me from its path, yet all the same the scalpel of its claw tore my stomach, and as life poured warm and dark over my trembling hands, I heard Or'do cry out in fury. Darkness stole my sight, and its cloak swallowed my mind.

I woke, rising before a wilting lamp with only the memory of the pain that had consumed me. When I rang the bell as Or'do commanded, it produced grim, disheartening silence; I needed something that at this moment I lacked, perhaps the power came from slaying creatures of the Darkness. For now, I was alone.

Once more I battered a path through the swarm, until again I faced the Werewolves -a name that materialized in my mind as I studied their hunched, mottled forms- with equal parts trepidation and sanity devouring bloodlust. This time, as the first lunged, I anticipated its feint, and when its true attack came -a swipe of its formidable paw- I ducked beneath the outstretched hand, snapping my halberd back into its smaller form and plunging its ragged blade through the monster's taut abdomen. Muscle snapped with sickening twangs like sundered harpstrings, and its foul blood stained me as it vomited the warmth of its life into the cold air, and collapsed.

Its comrade was not cowed by this display, and merely lunged with gleaming teeth bared and talons striking sparks from the earth. I pivoted aside, slashing its flank and in the same motion lengthening the ax. When it turned, it hadn't time to widen its eyes in shock, before my halberd plunged between those luminous almonds, and tore apart that which lay beyond. Steam unfurled its soft, ashen wings and took flight from its open jaws as the monster toppled aside, laying motionless and suddenly seaming no longer a twisted creature, but a mere pup slaughtered in a rage as psychopathic as it was misplaced.

I shook myself and moved on, a wide sweep of my radiant blade hurling back the grounded birds and towering humanoid that lay before me, clearing the path to the mist laden gate. I knew not what lay beyond, only that I lacked choice; face the Darkness and destroy it, or avoid it and live forever snared by the eternal cycle. I hesitated not a moment more, passing through the curtain of mist and brandishing my weapon at the beast looming beyond.

The Cleric Beast -its name blazing through my mind as had the Werewolves before it- rose upon powerful legs, and tipped its entire body toward me, striking the earth with thunderous force; shaking the stones and nearly hurling me like a twig grasped in the mighty arms of a raging tempest. Seeing my opportunity, I lunged: my blade crunching against its jutting ribs and skittering aside as if it were steel not thinly clad bone that I had struck. Striding back, I avoided another blow from its titanic fist, and flicking my weapon back into its shorter form, I pivoted around the curled fingers, slashing first the broad wrist, then the bared throat beyond.

Now, it was pained, and with pain came anger. Even as it reeled, it swiped with a palm nearly rivaling my own size, striking me like a crumbling mountain, and grinding my fragile body across the far less frail stones. Agony flared, yet its fire sustained me. I leaped to my feet, and dashed past its kneeling frame, my keen blade biting into its flank. No sooner had it pivoted to pursue me than I had already circled it once more, striking its unprotected back and carving a dark gash across its ashen hide.

Its howl of frustration and rage seemed mighty enough to sunder stone if not the heavens themselves, rolling forth like a peal of thunder laden with divine power and primordial rage. Yet it was here that it erred on final time: I twisted beneath its chin, and drove my hand through flesh and bone, wresting its foul heart from its fouler mount, and crushing it with fingers of iron.

The Cleric Beast crumpled, and with a thin, puling wail breathed its last. I had triumphed here, struck the Darkness and gained its attention. There was no turning back now.

"Well done!" Or'do laughed heartily as he dragged himself from the stones, answering the call of my bell. "The first blow has been dealt, let us be swift lest they return it."

I nodded. "I know not the way, yet we can only stumble blind so long before we happen upon the proper course."

"No need." Flaring Cinder, he took one step... and looked disappointed. "Oh yeah."

"Onward?"

"Onward."

We strode on, yet we need not pass from from that gate of fog, before again the servants of darkness were upon us. Thralls of shadow swarmed over flagstones, their blades filling the air with steel's hollow song. I felt myself slip away, felt my consciousness be devoured by the flames of bloodlust, numbing my wounds and quenching the fires of exhaustion that raged in my weary arms.

It seemed not a moment had passed before we stood at the next door of fog, panting and gasping, yet exhilarated. If pressed, I would still be unable to recall our path, only that it ended with us sodden in foul blood, while our own still coursed through our veins, and that when we had arrived, the thrilling fury did not relent. Whether the Cinder fed from our exploits, or damned them, I could not say; only that perhaps this disorienting fixation on the hunt, was inscribed upon our very souls, and whether consciously or not, we yearned for those silent rules' fulfillment.

Hunched among the tombstones, Father Gascoigne raised eyes that shone like pools of oil set alight, and regarded us evenly, then with fury. Then, Or'do and I were upon him. My vision wavered, a pall of crimson swallowing my sight and a flare of forbidden thrill throbbing through my breast. I shook myself, glancing over at Or'do who was quite merrily in the intoxicating presence's thrall. Sudden insight seized me: this passion that dulled wit and burned away caution, was no creation of the Flame. This was the touch of some sick, twisted presence loyal only to the Dark, and with this knowledge, I defied it.

Father Gascoigne slashed wildly, yet his fate was already sealed in the blood that wept from a thousand thousand gashes. He crumpled, and Or'do stood triumphant, his eyes seething with dark ecstasy. I shook my head slowly, no good will come of this.

With supreme effort, I snared my sanity and bound it to me. Yet as we strode, laying about with vicious blows that tired him little, yet drained me of what little strength remained, I felt trepidation sweep over me like a mantle of frost. Or'do however, spared not a thought toward his state, rather it seemed he delighted in the power that came of allowing the presence unfettered command.

Then, its hold was shaken: we strode from shelter into the sickly light of a foul sky, and the flickering radiance of smouldering pyre, yet no sooner had we lain waste to those before us, than a stream of bullets was raining down, punching a thousand holes into my trailing leg as I rolled aside, and spraying Or'do's entrails across the stones in a fine scarlet mist. He crumpled slightly, then bellowing in challenge, sprinted toward the tower from which our foe took bead upon us, and unleashed another hellish barrage.

'No Or'do wait!" I called, charging after him, seeing too late that the clearing into which we burst, was littered with barrels promising to bathe the world in liquid fire, if struck even obliquely. Or'do bounded on, heedless of my warning, and when that hail of bronze again rattled against the stones, he was engulfed in flame that even this almighty frenzy could not mute.

His screams burned through me as the flame burned through him. Even in our world, fire does not sustain us when it dances over our undead flesh, yet here, the befouled inferno devoured him with fiendish ease. He perished then, yet immediately lunged back into my world, erupting from his own corpse in a flare of darkness; an explosion painted by colorblind artist, a spray of tar that fueled the flames.

Staggered through the curtain of fire, he passed into the dark chamber beyond. With greater caution, I leaped from shelter to the tempest of bullets, rolling thrice and coming up in a frenetic sprint that carried me across a bridge of planks, and into the stone building that loomed beyond.

"Something is wrong." Or'do murmured. "I feel not myself, my mind not my own."

"I know. The Darkness senses us, knows of us, despises us. It clouds our minds and hastens our hearts in a ploy that intoxicates as well as endangers."

Or'do nodded. "No more." He flared his Cinder, and in response, the Darkness swelled around us. He strode, burning away the shadows, and carrying us both to the gate of fog that lay countless leagues and even more countless foes beyond. No sooner had we emerged, than he was crumpling to the earth, kneeling heavily with hands folded atop his axe's pommel, and blood spilling over his lips.

Astonished, I took in the craggy earth and jutting bonfires. "I thought  this place refused the Cinder"

"I does." Or'do panted. "That is how I moved us; flaring the Cinder repelled the Darkness, and permitted me a channel bore. The same result from vastly different endeavors." He concluded, eyeing me expectantly.

"Forgive me, Or'do. I do not understand."

"Me neither!" Or'do laughed heartily, then gasped and coughed, leaning forward with hands on knees and stomach convulsing. Dark and foul, tendrils of blood coursed over his parched lips, and splattered against the stones.

"Or'do!" I shifted helplessly, uncertain whether touching him would only intensify his suffering.

"Using the Cinder here travels in the company of grave consequence." He straightened, slashing a forearm over his befouled mouth. Waving toward a deep scarlet beacon that rested atop a hillside to our left, he rasped: "Summon whomever that it is, we cannot fight this beast without help."

I nodded, and reaching for a corroded bell, stained with the centuries it had weathered, I strode toward the pool of sickly light. Long and frail, my clarion call rang out, and from a pool of shadow, crawled our ally: Alfred with hammer of grey slung over his shoulder, and the blighted fire of madness keen in his eyes. That same light had consumed my comrade not so long ago, and for our immense will, I felt that it would soon seduce us again.

 

 I lowered my shoulder, and strode through the wisps of mist that clung and writhed, pleading in silent voices for me to reconsider, to retreat while I still could. Now, battered and wounded, my heart sheared in two by grief's glacial blade, I recall their unspoken warning often; perhaps I should have listened.

The monster lunged, its cowl of scarlet flesh rippling grotesquely, its claws of glinting steel fading into an indistinct blur as it struck; I retreated before its assault, giving ground readily and daring not pause even for the most desperate of blows; to so much as stutter now, was to sign Death's warrant. Or'do smashed his slender blade against its protruding ribs, striking a damp note from the monster's abdomen. It pivoted, slavering jaws gaping wide in a deafening howl of furious hunger.

No sooner had it turned, than I was already moving, sliding beneath its crooked, emaciated legs, and dragging the razor edge of my battered sword against the sickly flesh that drooped and quivered along its belly. I did not pierce deep, yet I earned its attention nonetheless. My comrades showered in in steel, blades biting deep into its body, and helpless, battered, overcome with anger that it could not release, that monster surged to its feet, rising upon twisted hind legs, its foul muscle bulging like braided steel beneath the thin pall of sickly skin.

Clotted and revolting, strands of poison exploded outward from its flesh, showering us in ropes of filth, piercing our skin and fouling our blood. I retched and crumpled forward, poison thick in my veins.

"Take this!" Or'do did not wait for me to so much as glance his way, merely shoving an antidote between my lips as he passed. "Rise, Aleorn. We've prey before us!" I saw again that frenzy in his eyes, yet this time knew that it was he who ruled that mighty body.

His hammer swung in a broad arc, turning the air to a deafening malestrom as like the blade of lightning a tempest coughs forth, it struck the monster's flank, crushing bone and throwing the beast to its knees. Turning, using the weapon's own momentum to augment his own, he met its weak charge -a pitiful scrabbling of useless back legs that merely turned its face toward him- with a second, even more powerful blow that resonated through the cavern with a horrible, sickening crunch somewhere between autumn leaves ground beneath irreverent heel, and the moist hiss of a boot caught in mud's greedy grasp. It had not time in this world to howl or yelp, merely slumped to the flagstones and lay motionless until light blazed out from its ravaged frame, and it returned to the nothingness from whose foul womb it had sprung.

We had explored the Cathedral for some time before Or'do began to fade. It was as if the colour suffusing him bled into the stones, pooling in a basin of shadow around his feet. The strength left him then, and he crumpled to his knees; yet I saw even now, not a hint of fear on his angular face, not a wisp of terror in those deep crimson eyes. Having vanquished the lord of this domain, our bells had fallen silent, and it was with this thought, the fear of never again seeing my comrade, that I fell to my knees beside him, hands clutching at his cloak and passing through it with little more than a hushed whisper.

"Or'do!" I kept my voice muted, fearing the attention of whatever foes we had not yet slain.

"Do not fear for me. This realm is merely casting me back to my own world, my own plane among its infinity." He met my gaze, his eyes hard as steel yet warm and kind as the bonfires that sustained us. "I will find the next lamp, and with this bell call for you."

"What if I cannot find it?"

"I will wait for an eternity if I must." Or'do smiled as the void took him. "At you side is where I belong. In this foul world, or any other, I've nowhere else I would rather be."

"And you told me to not be dramatic" I muttered, turning away. "I know you were simply returning to your world; finding you again however, shall not be easy." I remembered then, the chalice that lay heavy and brimming with malice at my side. The key to a dungeon it was, an endless realm of battle wherein even I, the frailest of steel, could be tempered.

I felt then, a surge of darkness within my breast; a spark that was to the Cinder as a cloudless midday is to a starless midnight. Curious, I extended a mental finger to the murk within me, and instantly recoiled as a chill fierce as glacial tears passed through me. The Darkness was rooted as deeply as the Cinder; what this meant, I could not say, only that I felt my sanity begin to erode. Desperate, I strained and writhed, struggling against its indomitable grasp; trying without success to free myself, to snatch away the hand of my consciousness from the searing flame of its deep chill.

I crumpled to my knees, writhing and gasping, clawing at my chest as though I could physically tear the blasphemous heart from its perch. Steam rose from my fingertips, caressing my cheeks and burning my wide eyes; and with a sudden cry of agony, I wrenched my hands away, skin blistered and bone jutting through deep gashes.

Darkness stole my sight, and my muscles turned to warm, molten honey that flowed uselessly around my bones as I collapsed and lay motionless.

I woke to a bleak scene indeed: flagstones laden in moss that stretched off to a dark horizon where the darkened corridor shambled beyond my sight. Trembling, my fingers rasped against the filthy stone as I heaved myself upright, rising with the ominous slowness of a molten primordial dragging itself from the earthen depths.

Gasping, I sagged against the wall, slowly taking in the walls, the texture of stone beneath my fingers rough as a fighter's many times sundered bones. This was the Pthumerian labyrinth. Somehow, the madness had seized me, and cast my unwilling frame here. As surely as any who bows before the hangman's noose, I was sent here to perish. The Darkness loathed me, and the Flame knew of my betrayal. My only ally in all this had been severed, and I knew better than to hope for his miraculous return.

Clawing and scraping at my throat, a roar of fury burst from my lips, accompanied by a volcanic surge of heat. No, the Flame had not forsaken me. I was merely too far to feel its warmth; a shivering servant with hands outstretched toward his master's fire, thrust beyond its ring of light, bent and shuddering in the darkness. I screamed again, flame surging through my veins, glowing through my cloak. Fire rolled out from my soles, encircling my feet as with furious purpose I strode, crossing the corridor and with a fist of flame wreathed steel, shattered the bronze door, turning it into a shower of pale dust that bathed the surprised creatures beyond. Pale and emaciated, they nonetheless surged toward me with eyes that blazed and claws that shone. I was unimpressed.

Casually, a dealt a backhand that sundered their heads from their shoulders, and in the same instant ground their spines to sand. Ahead, stood a gate of wrought iron bracketed by two kneeling statues who bore lanterns alight with lavender flame. A puzzle of some sort, I was certain. My fist turned the gate into a cascade of rent metal like the jagged blood of an elemental of stone. Ahead, loomed the lord of this realm; a giant whose back bristled with candles that clung to the hilts of embedded daggers. His every thunderous step sent fresh tongues of blood eagerly licking along his protruding ribs, and each breath rasped with the hollow peal of agony. He raised arms that ended in scythes - which turned back along his forearms, their tips near his elbow and half a arms' span from his clawed hands - and bellowed in challenge. I stoked the Cinder, and matched his fury.

Without warning, it sprang: scythes fading into silvered crescents like the sliver moon bathed in solemn starlight. Too late I retreated, leaping back yet feeling the glacial fire of its blade curl across my abdomen. Anger's flame burned through me like molten steel coursing through my veins in time with the furious thunder of my heartbeat. Lunging, I brought him to his knees with a round from my pistol, then plunged my fist into the soft flesh of his neck, wrenching forth a pulsing chunk of his foul body.

He roared, slashing wildly and driving me back. The air howled and wailed like the keening of a thousand grief stricken souls as he stumbled forward, still on hands and knees, slashing madly. Floundering to his feet, he sank into a low stance, balancing precariously and swaying as his life streamed from the daggers adorning his back, and the ragged wound glistening upon the corded steel of his neck.

Without sparing thought nor breath for hesitation, I lunged, yet recognized at once that something was wrong, his eyes blazing with triumphant fire, his leaden arms rising as if with the strength of a thousand men. Instantly, he recovered: the weakness, the apparent and all consuming fraility had been little more than a feint for which I had clumsily fallen. I wrenched my body aside as his blade clanged against the floor, cleaving the air I had occupied; yet I had not the time to riposte, for he immediately pivoted, pursuing me with broad strokes that sundered air and tugged upon my cloak with a hundred curious hands. I fell to my knees, rolling in desperation as he slammed both weapons into the earth no more than a half pace behind; yet here was his final and damning mistake.

I leaped to my feet, my blade turning to a flash of honeyed light that sank its fangs of steel into his corded thigh, severing muscle with an audible twang like failing bowstrings. He crumpled, and no sooner had his knees met the stone, than my fist was passing through that soft patch behind his jaw, driving fingers of cold iron into the warm, squirming mass that dwelt within his skull. It twitched, convulsed beneath my hand, as if it were itself alive and terrified of the fate that loomed before it. I pivoted, using my entire body to wrench the monster's brain from its throne, and cast the foul tendrils across the stones. Steam coursed from its nostrils and gaping maw as still with an expression that spoke of profound shock etched upon its features, the monster collapsed and fell forever still. I had triumphed this day.

I realized that I had knelt, dragged to the earth by the leaden mantle of fading anger. Rising, I strode through the revealed door, and paused a moment on the threshold. How many foes awaited me? How would I escape this place? Defeat flooded through me, a sense of hopelessness that quenched even the Cinder's heat. Cold, afraid for the first time in my immortal life, I sank to the ground, unable to rally the will to move on.

"Pathetic!" I slammed an iron fist against the stones, growling in helpless fury. "You shall not keep me here!" I was not certain to whom I cried, yet my shouts went predictably unanswered. Sorrow filled me, and in its glacial wake crept the vile, repulsive tendrils of shame. "Why must I always be so helpless?" I whispered.

Because you choose to be. I jerked, surprised. Casting about, I nearly embarrassed myself by demanding the speaker's source, when I knew fully that it came from within my own skull. Rise, Ashen One. It was the Keeper's voice, and her words chilled me despite the warmth with which they were spoken.

"I am sorry" My voice broke pitifully, and I buried my face in my hands. "I murdered you!"

You did what you believed to be right. I sensed that she would weather no further argument on the matter. Now rise, Ashen One. Cowering neither suits nor is demanded of you. 

"What point is there?" I felt her eyes upon me, chastising in their judgemental silence."Alright, alright." I stood, brushing the dust from my calves and thighs. "I'll stop brooding and get on with it."

She remained silent, yet I had the impression that she was smiling.

My body seemed wrought of solid iron, each step weighing twice so much as the last. Using the Cinder had drained me, and to flare it again, I suspected, would slay me. As I shambled toward the lavender radiance of the wilting lamp, I heard again the Keeper's words: Have no fear, Ashen One. I shan't let you fall.

What she meant by that, I could not say, only that it gave me the strength I lacked. It was therefore, more her strength than mine that sent me stumbling down the dimly lit corridor, my stake-driver's rugged tip glimmering softly in the shivering torchlight.

Your foes grow close, Ashen One she whispered, and I felt her invisible hand upon my shoulder, steadying me. Strike quickly. We have not time to waste.

With this sentiment I agreed, nodding as I turned, raising my burdened right arm and with a gesture primed its keen edged spear. I was dying. The Flame and Shadow clashed inside my body, and their furious struggle would tear me asunder. Yet I swore all the same: if I was to perish, it would be at my comrade's side, not here, not in the filth and mire of this befouled place. It was this thought that frightened me, yet all the same lent steel to my trembling limbs, and calmed my labored heart.

Before me loomed the portcullis behind which this realm's lord lurked. I raised a weary hand, yet found it locked, immobile as the stones into which it was set. The Cinder had grown cold in my breast, no more roused by my touch than the statues might be stirred by vehement epithets, even the foulest of which seemed unable to capture my frustration.

You shan't avoid the dungeon this time. I glared to my left, where I presumed the Fire Keeper would stand.

"Couldn't have guessed that one." I muttered, turning on my heel and noticing for the first time, the circular pit carved into the earth. "Down there seems promising."

Wait, Ashen One. You need not carry on alone.

"I doubt you can hold a blade." I sensed a charmed smile, and a shaking of her head.

To your left, Ashen One.

Sighing, I turned, cocking my head in confusion at that which I beheld: a disk of mottled crimson light lay sheltered in the corner, a blade of pale scarlet jutting from it and tapering as it reached for the heavens, yet rose no farther than the crest of my scalp.

"Wha-? I felt the Keeper smile again.

The Bell, Ashen One.

I shook my head. "I guess I am more weary than I thought." Rough metal rasped beneath my trembling fingers as I withdrew the Old Hunter's Bell, an ancient relic of times long past, that had weathered them poorly. Its sepulchral tone rang forth, low and melancholy, yet all the same it beckoned to whatever waited on the far side of the rippling mire.  

Tomb Prospector Olek stood before me, a faint smile on his lips as he bowed, then gestured for me to lead on. Wearily, I complied: half falling half climbing down the ladder; my limbs heavy and yet at the same time brittle as the weathered rungs beneath me. Immediately, a ghoul lunged toward me, its pale skin gleaming as if shrouded in oil, its bared teeth reflecting the torchlight like sabers of glass. Clumsily, I ducked beneath its slashing talons, and stepped inside its reach, my blade crunching diagonally through its solar plexus, and stilling the foul heart beyond.

As Olek joined me in the disk shaped chamber, I stumbled onward, straining against invisible chains that bound my feet to the earth all the more forcefully with each stride. I passed beneath a low, moss laden ceiling, and staggered into a much larger clearing: a dark cavern whose walls were shrouded in shadow and whose dark canopy was held aloft by broad, ancient pillars.

Sibilant, a cry steeped in primordial fury alerted me moments before the monster was upon me; its segmented armor glinting like plates of steel, its razor edged tail slashing forth, edge weeping vile, emerald green tears. Its face was little more than a tapering barb, its chest contorted by fang filled jaws that widened, trembling in eager anticipation. I ducked beneath the slashing tail, and was met by a gout of flame from its slavering mandibles. My vision was devoured in a blinding light, and my numb, heavy body was bathed in horrible pain. No cry was wrung from me, for the blast robbed me of breath and voice, stealing my strength and leaving me limp upon the charred, steaming flagstones.

Then, it was turning from me, its slate grey jaws open wide in a shriek of agony as Olek's blade punched through a chink in its armour, spraying a geyser of foul ichor that stained the stones and clung to the sleek lines of his sword. Rising unsteadily, I raised the stake-driver and thrust it against the monster's unguarded flank as it turned to menace my ally. A hiss, and a sickening crunch rang out as the barbed stake punched through chitin and crushed the organs beneath. The beast staggered, its many legs twitching uselessly, then collapsed, its elongated neck crumpling limp to the stone. White flame flared from within, and the slain beast dissolved.

Roll to your left, Ashen One! I dared not question her, and no sooner had I complied, than a cannonball was slamming into the space I had abandoned, spraying me with shards of shattered earth. Through a curtain of seething, jaundiced afterimage, I noticed a lever, and with gloved hands seized it, using my weight rather than my waning strength to pull it back, ancient gears squealing in porcine fury. Before me, a cylindrical cage slammed against the earth, and without prompting, I leaped into it, recognizing the lift for what it was.

Grinding and screeching, the cage halted alongside a stone outcropping, and with more energy than I thought my weary body capable I sprang out of that rickety contraption that seemed more deadly than anything waiting beyond. I turned left, and charged through a dark corridor lined with the same squat pillars that crouched below, my keen eyes alit with what remained of the Cinder's waning strength. Fire rolled through my veins as I discerned the gaunt creature who manned the cannon, and surging forward, I shouted a warning to my comrade below.

He glanced up, and his eyes widened in shock; then his face was crushed beneath an orb of beaten iron, tearing his head from his shoulders and shattering his spine. I knew nothing of Olek, knew his name only by virtue of the Keeper, knew his past only through guesswork, yet I felt a sharp pain roll through me, felt the dying fire in my blood swell and writhe; a tidal wave trapped inside my body, smashing furiously through my weary veins. I saw not Olek, but Or'do in that crumpled form, heard his voice when the Hunter cried out in agony, saw Or'do's blood stain the flagstones. I roared in furious challenge, and surged forth.

My blade crunched through the monster's armpit, and with a hydraulic bellow, the stake exploded from its opposite shoulder, hurling the beast from its perch and slamming its limp body against the ground far below, where it burst apart like an overripe melon flung from great height. The tolling or anger's thunderous bell echoed inside me as I turned on my heel, eyes that glowed with hate fixing upon the black clad woman whose bell conjured these foul beasts.

Again, that inhuman roar thrust clawed hands up my throat, and hauled itself from my gaping jaws. I sprang, unconsciously stoking the Cinder, flaring it to a blinding crescendo as my blade arched through the air in a silvered scythe, cleaving through cloth and passing through flesh with similar ease, smashing her head from its mount and casting both nearly three meters away. Flame seethed from my flesh, smoke burned from my jaws, and with a furious cry, I loped along the wall-less corridor behind her, smashing through the bronze door without pause, my form leaving its edges wilting and molten.

Surprise clear on its fat laden face, an obese creature turned upon short legs and leveled its blunderbuss, clearly thinking itself immune to my wrath. It fired, the volley striking my molten flesh and punching through with a sickening crunch, yet I was not slowed, much less halted. I sank my blade into the fleshy jowls that hid his neck, and fired the jagged stake through his skull. Before his obese frame had slumped to the earth, I had already surged past, grasping the lever he guarded, and with its movement unlocking the gate to this realm's Lord.

I recalled not how I had arrived, yet I now stood before the iron portcullis, my trembling hands easily raising it. Olek stood again at my side, seemingly unaffected by his recent death, and with hammer brandished eagerly, he lead the way, pausing before the door of fog and glancing back toward me.

"How does he stand again by my side?" I asked, slurring badly in my exhaustion.

In your delirium you summoned him again. Remember, Ashen One, he is no more a member of this realm than those you called through glyphs. 

 I nodded, shambling to Olek's side and laying a weary palm upon the rippling curtain, feeling its solidity and resting a moment upon it. The Cinder within my breast had quieted again, my blood cold as the mist against which I leaned. Darkness flared, and I stiffened, my veins aflame with an inferno that sliced through me like blades of frost. I collapsed, passing through the curtain as I did, and without concern, Olek bounded in after me.

Before us loomed a titanic hound, its body twice so long as I stood, and perhaps four times so broad. Its flesh was wrought of fire, and its eyes twin pools of hate locked within its obsidian skull. Flame rolled out beneath its paws as it advanced, growling in excitement as much as challenge.

Olek surged on, fearless in spite of our immense foe. Even as it lowered its head, and opened wide its slavering jaws in a cry of challenge, his hammer was already swinging, crashing against the monster's cheek with a thunderous peal.

Ashen One! The Keeper's words stirred me, rousing me from the stupor into which I had fallen. My heart beat slowly, an ominous thrum within my undead veins that slowed ever more as I staggered in after him. Hissing, my stake-driver's slate grey blade jutted forth, its ominous cry echoing in the silence between my haggard footsteps.

Either it did not yet notice me, or it knew of my frailty, sensed that I would pose neither the challenge nor the entertainment it sought. Whirling, it snapped at Olek, whose hasty retreat left the fringe of his white cloak weeping tears of flame and soot, and alit with cinder still, it snapped around him as he rolled, evading its massive paw as it struck the ground with such force that even at my great distance, I was still thrown to my knees.

Defiant, Olek rolled again, coming up behind the monster and bringing his hammer in a wide arc; its cudgel head becoming a silvered streak that turned to a geyser of magma as it struck the beast's flank, toppling it. At once, I was upon it, feeling that perhaps it was the Keeper not I who guided my hand as I thrust an armoured fist into the soft patch behind its jaw, and ripped free a handful of whatever foulness lurked beyond.

It wailed, thrashing and squealing as it crumpled, yet all the same it floundered to its feet before I could strike again. With eyes that smouldered in fury, it lunged: teeth like swords of red hot steel clamping around a leg I could not retract fast enough. With formidable, impossible strength, it hurled me across the chamber, slamming me against the far wall and extinguishing my vision as my spine shattered and burst from my chest in a spray of vile green-black like tar fouled with crushed leaves. Olek cried out, pained despite knowing me only as his conjurer, and struck once more as it gathered itself to spring upon my prone form and drink the life that gushed from my torn body.

Staggered yet not toppled, it slashed with claws of cracked glass, slicing only air as he leaped back, yet this time it lunged: fluid as liquid iron its paw swept out, catching his side and nearly splitting him in two. He hadn't time to cry out before it was closing jaws of fire around his frail, frail body.

Once more my weakness had cost me an ally. I made it only to my knees before with a sickening crack, his body shattered as if made of ancient clay. Anger and sorrow swelled within me, and I fell forward, catching myself with trembling hands braced upon the cold stones. Tears of fury burned along my jaw, and shuddering breaths wracked my body.

I saw not Olek in that beast's jaws, but Or'do. I watched the light fade from my dearest comrade's eyes, as the monster bore him into that most perfect darkness that lies beyond life, and bitterly I wept. Hate burned through me, banishing the frost of exhaustion, and swaying with weariness I felt no longer, I rose.

Ashen One, you haven't the strength to-

"I never will." I growled, thrusting one arm to the side, my weapon's notched spike jolting forth with a harsh clang. "No mere hallucination that was. A promise, from the Darkness itself: Or'do will fall. I cannot, shall not let that happen!" Fire rolled through my chest as with agonizing fury the Cinder blazed to life. "They shall not take him from me!"

Sagging forward still, I slogged onward, my blade carving a thin line in the earth at my back, sparks grinding from its ragged yet dangerously keen edge. The hound regarded me curiously, perhaps unsure what to make of my sudden revival.

My jaws snapped open, and from my parched throat burst a deafening cry. I lunged, my fist catching it beneath the chin, clacking its flaming teeth together and driving the monster to its knees. No sooner had its body slammed heavily against the earth, than my fingers of iron were crunching through its chest, ripping forth a quivering mass of the foulness that lay beyond. Now, it roared, yet this time it was not in challenge, but in equal parts fear and agony.

It retreated, yet I had not a dreg of mercy left in my drained soul. Dust rasped beneath my sole as I pivoted around it, keeping its flanks before me and its muzzle hopelessly far. My iron fist crashed against its hip, once more toppling the beast, rolling it onto its back and baring its soft belly. Its eyes widened in shock as I vaulted atop its thrashing form, and battered by its slashing paws, rocked by the quaking of its body, I knelt, stake-driver poised over the bloodied flesh where its heart lurked. This time, my strike was true, blasting through its body with such force that the stones beneath shattered, and its blood gushed like a sundered dike.

No more did its wails assail me, for its breath had erupted from its shattered form. Mute, it looked upon me with plaintive eyes that dimmed even as I met their confused stare. I knelt, resting my bloodied hand upon its brow, and there I remained, holding the beast's gaze until Death took it mercifully in his dark arms.

Flame turned cold in my veins, and I collapsed. My memories blurred, brief traces of striding through that labyrinth, of my blade lashing out, of foes crumpling with blood tracing a crescent fan from torn throat, or a black geyser from sundered chest. I stood before the portcullis without recalling how I had arrived.

"What point is there?" I rasped, resting my hands upon my trembling knees. "I'll never escape this place."

Your comrade needs you, Aleorn.

"I know!" Anger flared in my veins, yet quickly faded back into the frost of my dying flesh. "But how?" My voice broke, and I fell to my knees. "How?"

I do not know, Ashen One. She sounded as lost and desolate as I; her words hollowed by an aching, profound emptiness that jarred me. What I do know, Ashen One, is that whether you meant to or not, you have beckoned Darkness into the realms once more. Long has it lurked, long has it awaited this moment, the cataclysmic Return. If you do not succeed here, your comrade and all of creation, will fall.

I gritted my teeth, trembling and straining with muscles that quickly became bands of fire, hands of ice that clawed at my haggard body with furious, relentless abandon. Perhaps halfway, I rose, then I collapsed once more, my breath fleeing in an ashen gust.

"I haven't the strength." I gasped.

Then we are truly without hope.

Or'do sighed, leaning heavily against the braided iron lamp, which he had long ago discovered. He cast about, taking in the towering bonfire below, and the dark clad figures tending to it, or knelt in various postures of reverence around it.

"Where is he?" Referring to Aleorn, he spoke this softly, fearing that the horde lurking below his outcropping would take notice. "I pray he is alright." A distant peal of thunder drew his attention to the bleak, yet cloudless horizon. Before he could so much as inhale in shock, the sky had turned black, the stars becoming bloodied streaks that wept across the heavens and struck the earth with solemn, hollow notes.

Leaping to his feet, Or'do drew his blade, closing fingers of steel around his rugged pommel and pivoting as he rose, bringing it into diagonal guard. Around him, the earth seethed, fissures of blackness blazing through the flagstones, and from their stygian depths crawled unspeakable horrors; bodies of men twisted and fouled, arms sprouting like grotesque wings from hunched backs, bleeding coils lashing and curling around hidden legs, eyes of deep scarlet blazing as heads misshapen, craggy and ruined as the stones, turned toward him.

Too many horrors had he seen for such things to trouble him, at least in appearance, yet when Or'do felt their eyes upon him, he knew that these were not creatures he could fight. The nearest among them lunged, and instantly the memory of Vicar Amelia flashed through his mind, her crumpled form etched in tones of ash and flame. Startled, he barely managed to deflect its twisted hand, yet all the same its foul aura washed over him, and within his breast the Cinder shivered. He lunged away, sprinting across that pitted field, toward the fortress upon its peak, where the Which of Hemwick Charnel Lane waited. She was formidable, yet those at his back, were far more than he could possibly vanquish. If he was right, they like most, could not traverse the gate of fog. Death closed from all sides now, yet he had faith.

"Come on, Aleorn. I know you're there, waiting for some dramatic entrance." He grunted, ducking as a withered arm lashed overhead. "Help me, Aleorn. Come back to my side before its too late." Glancing skyward, he murmured: "For us all."

You need to unlock it. The Keeper said gently as I dragged a forlorn hand across the firmly resolute portcullis, as if my touch alone would soften its columns or persuade its lock.

"I cannot walk, much less fight my way through this labyrinth."

All the same, you cannot very well smash through it. She chided, her soft words neither infuriating no comforting me, merely deepening the grim darkness that gathered inside, swallowing my soul and quenching the fires behind my eyes. Then, a vison: Or'do falling to the the ground, which seethed and writhed like a beast in pain. Creatures twisted and foul, blighted in ways neither words nor mind could possibly capture, slashed with claws like rust plagued iron, battering him and driving him to his knees. The scene diminished slightly, retreating until I could see clearly that he had indeed found the Lantern, and proceeded in his boredom, well beyond it. The home of the Witch of Hemlock Charnel Lane, lay sundered and afire around him, great rugged slabs of stone jutting from a sea of roiling shadow.

This is but a glimpse of that which is yet to come. I sensed again the clawing sadness, that fathomless sorrow that swelled from deep within, and rose like the ravenous tides to devour her, body and soul. The Darkness has waited long from its return, has lingered in the shadows on reality's fringe and watched us. Now, at last, it swells from the deep to seize our realm once more.

"Surely it cannot all pour forth!" I said this more in denial than hope, yet her response nonetheless heartened me.

Indeed. When I said this was but a glimpse, it was not merely my penchant for poetry. The Darkness' garrisons still lurk hidden and baleful; their first legion this is, a mere scouting party behind which the siege shall follow. 

"Then we have time still." I gritted my teeth, and locking fingers of steel around the portcullis, hauled myself to my feet. Swaying, standing on legs that burned and cried out in silent voices, clawing beneath my skin with desperate hands, I all the same drew back my iron fist. "He shan't give up. Not now, and not ever." Flame seethed within me, and upon my breast the Cinder shone: a broadening disk of mottled light that flared and blazed, turning my undead flesh into a lantern lit with undying flame. "And neither shall I!" My fist crashed against the gate, and beneath my power it crumbled. I felt the Dark within me, that blighted Cinder that coveted my warmth. It loathed me, hated me for that which I represented. Good. Let it try to stop me.

Or'do stumbled, his blade slaking its thirst upon the stones, driving itself up to the hilt in mired soil. The Dark surged on around him, and within his blood, the Cinder had grown cold. Breath misted from his jaws, curling around his hands and weaving a thin veil around his face as it rose. Another beast lunged toward him, and with impossible speed he wrenched the blade from its tomb and slashed from heel to shoulder, its blade a silvered arc that passed through the monster's twisted wrist, shattering bone and scattering beads of its foul blood across the heaving stone.

Like a jagged crack in its pitted face, the monster's jaws opened wide in a low, keening wail that reeked of agony, yet did not give him pause. One foot shifted forward, and in same moment, he was striking again: kneeling and pushing off his back foot, driving the radiant tip of his blade through its lashing tongue, and spearing its head with a horrid, resounding crunch! He twisted away, ripping the blade free and spraying his back with its coarse, steaming fluids. In the single breath he had spent slaying this beast, another score had risen.

Pain tore through him as a clawed hand snagged his trailing leg, laying bare his calf as it tore cloth and flesh with equal, terrible ease. He collapsed, folding his hands atop the pommel of Ludwig's Holy Blade as he drove it between the cracked stones, and leaned heavily upon it. He drew back his parched lips in a grimace, coughing the ashes of a crumbling world from his lungs. Now they fell upon him with ruthless abandon, their claws turning his cloak to ribbons, their fangs rending his flesh. Darkness rippled across his vision like vines of pitch poured over his wide, bloodshot eyes, and suddenly weak, he collapsed.

We sat at the hem of a Bonfire's soothing warmth, the night cold and dark at our backs. Aleorn leaned forward, his eyes bright with merriment. 

"No foe too mighty, eh?!" He gestured toward the distant lair of Aldritch, who lay fallen in his foul cavern, bleeding his last into the mire he called home.

"Indeed!" Or'do laughed softly. "But we haven't won yet."

Confused, Aleorn cocked his head by way of reply. 

"We've yet to slay the Soul. Again."

"Ah that. A matter for later!" He waved a hand dismissively. "We've for eternity served the Flame, slogged through countless planes and slain countless Souls. A thousand years we have lived, yet now is the first time I have felt alive. Let us revel in it, if only briefly."

Or'do smiled.  "I feel the same way."