Post 5

Beneath our combined might, the Lords of Cinder were felled like withered oak; indeed, this world is all but conquered save for the Soul of Cinder himself. In this time, in those battles, we spoke little, yet learned much. He like I has sought to break the cycle, and he like I, shall attain our freedom from this bleak realm. I speak of this not to flaunt my success, nor to indulge the need for acclaim; but to ensure that when the bitter Fate at last has his vengeance upon us, we joyous souls, you like I, will feel my agony.

Next: our first adventure. How I miss it.

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."