The last of our foes, king of the Dark's vassals, steeped in power torn from a thousand thousand of his own fallen kin, waited now beyond a frail curtain of mist. I felt surge of frost in my veins, splinters of ice burrowing from my heart and spreading through me.

"There is no need to fear." Or'do rested a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face him, peering into my eyes with those keen almonds of soft flame. "You've grown strong, mightier than he could possibly imagine-"

"But not strong enough to overcome my fear." I tried to break his gaze, yet his eyes had locked with mine as surely as iron manacles lock around prisoner's wrists. "He is too strong, Or'do. For the first time in all our conquests, I do not think we can win this."

Not with him at your side. Not with the Dark's own Rebirth. Old Hunter Gehrman had consumed the Darkness of scores, has made their blood his, has grown stronger than even the Soul of Cinder. He truly is the pinnacle that cannot be surpassed, Aleorn. Yet if you destroy Or'do, if you feed the Flame upon his dark steeped bones, you shall have all the power you could ever need. The Keeper froze as Or'do's intense gaze fixed on her, burning into a point above my left shoulder.

"At the cost of everything he has fought, bled, suffered for?!" True fury glinted in those blazing eyes; a filament of steel lost in the conflagrant forge. "You demand that he lose himself, to vanquish the Dark, to emerge triumphant yet shattered. You have no respect for us, Keeper of the Fallen Flame; our trials are nothing to you." Dark flame swirled around his clenched fists, bathing him in unholy light, in the antithesis of all we had once fought for. He had become Dark's Lord, if not in name, in form. "You see us as tools, as means to serve. We broke those chains when we met, when we realized there was more to this world than the pale, sordid sliver you let us see."

Ashen One-

"No, we are not your Ashen any longer." Or'do slashed a flaming hand through the air, painting a black crescent that wavered, fading like a tantalizing mirage taunting thirst besieged man. "We destroy the Dark, but not to preserve your Cycle. The Ages will return one way or another; if I usher in the Dark, so be it, for it is the wont of the spurned to seek revenge, and the Dark is no different than we. It will  claim again that which it was for so long denied, whether you force him to destroy himself or not. As all foul Lords do, the Flame demands sacrifice, but this time, its hunger shall not be sated!"

Aleorn, do not listen to this madness!

"If madness he speaks, then mad I must be." I thrust a hand through that frail curtain, its clamminess no match for the burning ice in my veins. "For so long I bent knee without question, then I wondered at my purpose, plead with the Flame, with the ruinous Gods for a reason to press on. I had lost everything, Keeper. The realm was safe, the Dark was spurned, yet I was hollow. The Cinder's warmth passed through me, for I no longer cared to feel it."

I lay limp in the void, my torn neck weeping tears of crimson. Or'do kneels at my side, his eyes burning with hate and sorrow.

"I serve neither you nor the flame." I strode onward, passing into the veil.

Gehrman's scythe flashes toward me. I find my body distant, immobile. 

"I wield the Flame, yet no longer am I a slave to it." Another step, half my body consumed in the roiling fog.

Or'do hurls me aside as the scythe descends, yet is too late. I am already crumpling, a horrid flame cold as glacial blood, burning like caltrops buried in my flesh. 

"The Cycle will be broken, Keeper. The Ages will end, and no other Ashen will suffer as I did." My voice was hard as iron, keen as a honed blade. "No one else will suffer as I did."

Gehrman smiles calmly as the void takes me in its cold, vacuous arms; a plaintive spirit holding me close. He knows I shall return, yet neither fears nor welcomes it. The Old Hunter has claimed so many prey, and I like so many failed to challenge him. I am worthless in his eyes, and, I realize, in the eyes of the Flame.

I passed through the veil without hesitation, Or'do striding in at my side. This time would be different, for strong or weak, frail or mighty, I had him at my side. I would not fail this time, or ever again; too many would be devoured by helplessness if I did. In their names, in mine, and in his, I strode onward with greatsword raised and eyes ablaze. From despair I had risen, and never again would I fall.