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Chapter Text

A thick stench of death and decay crept down the narrow corridor, entering each one of the long-forgotten cells. It joined the cold air that already filled the lungs of the unfortunate Undead that had ended up locked inside the prison, freezing their crumbling minds. Nothing alive remained in that disregarded place atop the northern snowy mountains.

Cursed prisoners walked limping and moaning inside and outside the old cells, locked and abandoned to time and solitude. Jailers became abominations amongst the prisoners they once restrained. All the unfortunate Undead swarming the Undead Asylum ended up being prisoners of their own minds sooner or later, and they were a danger to everyone, even to themselves. At that point, little did they care if they were left to rot at the Asylum or anywhere else.

Barely looking up from the puddled floor of her cell, Blade observed the lost and condemned souls. Even though she was locked up and rejected because of the Curse, just like them, she couldn't help the disdain she felt for the fleshless red-eyed Hollows roaming beyond the bars of her cell.

I am not like them, she thought, gritting her teeth. Although her own skin was sunken to the bone and dried like a mummy's, she didn't consider herself their equal. She was still aware of the world around her, clinging to every tiny bit of sanity remaining in her mind and refusing to let it go. Or so she thought.

Blade laughed inwardly at the persistent need to stubbornly remind herself that she was not the same as these Hollows, knowing deep down inside that it was just born out of fear of their likeness. She had long forgotten her own name. She couldn't remember who she had been before ending up in the Asylum or how she ended up like that. She didn't even know for how long she had sat down at the same spot, drowning and growing increasingly scarce and bitter, with the feeling that her brain was drying as fast as the rest of her flesh. Sometimes she saw painful flashes in her dreams, witnessing meaningless faces and events that escaped her memory, but they were as feeble and fragile as thin glass. In the end, all she had left was a word, Blade, a word she used as a name, a word she wouldn't forget for as long as she had hands to wield a weapon, even if fear gnawed at her insides. Not nearly enough to feel really human.

The troubled and cursed wanderer sat in a corner without moving one of her dried muscles for a long time, ignoring the scrawny rats roaming the cell and desperately wondering what sin they had committed to carry such a burden. The Curse had broken her life and ruined her sanity day by day, and all she could do was clench her fists in anger and fear and pretend she still had a chance to fight and overcome it. That was the natural reaction of a fighter and a survivor: swallowing the pain and ignoring every loss to face an enemy, even if that enemy was inside of her, and every loss meant giving up a piece of herself. Even if she was terrified. But Blade wasn't sure for how long she could stop that inner demon from devouring her mind away without going completely crazy.

What was the purpose of her empty existence now, anyway? Waiting, rotting and dying in solitude while telling herself she wasn't done for like everyone else? Pretending her hopes of somehow getting out of imprisonment were worth something?

Hatred possessed her like an infection, even though hate didn't make sense. She couldn't hate with a real passion anyway. Perhaps she was already losing the last remnants of her humanity and would end up banging her head against a wall very soon, grunting like the disgusting Hollows that cluttered the halls of the Asylum.

And so, days flew by without even noticing if the tremulous sun rose or not, without a change. It might have been weeks or months between one line of thought and the other; she didn't know. She didn't care either. Her chest ached where the Darksign pierced her parched skin under her travelling clothes, growing stronger and swallowing her like a maelstrom, promising a dark and safe place to rest, cold and perfectly natural for a human away from the weak and treacherous light, into oblivion. She was so very tempted just to lay the ruins of her stubborn mind to rest in that blackness, to close her eyes forever to a senseless fight with her very existence and…

She let out a muffled grunt when she heard a brief dragging noise above her head, unable to react before the shell of a Hollow fell right from the roof to her feet. Begrudgingly, Blade looked up from under her hood after making sure the corpse was just that, a harmless corpse, letting her instincts resurface from the foggy limbo inside her head. As regrettable as her condition was, her natural survival reflexes were still there, buried under painful neglect and brooding contemplation. She didn't know who she had been before, but she was pretty sure that her previous self would've found herself disgustingly weak and vulnerable right now.

A man in heavy armour and a blue surcoat with golden embroidery silently studied her from above, peering through a hole in the ceiling. He looked like an astoran knight, someone who was well aware of his actions and yet carried the Darksign branded deep in his chest, beneath layers of fancy armour. She could somehow feel it.

Blade found enough strength to get up and speak through dry lips, sincerely baffled by the presence of the man perched on the roof.

"Hey, you… Who are you? What are you doing?" she asked in a raspy voice.

Ignoring her, the knight stood up and disappeared from sight without a single word.

Sighing, Blade turned her attention to the corpse on the ground and noticed with a sudden pang of shock that there was a key and a rusty broken sword beneath it. She frowned in confusion as she took both items without a second thought.

It was odd to be helped after how badly she had been treated ever since she was branded with the Darksign, even if it was in such an unusual way. Still, her pragmatic nature urged her to take advantage of the situation without questioning the unexpected appearance of the mysterious knight. She had a chance to escape now, and her suspicions could wait.

Blade had no place to return to, no memories, no hope, but she hadn't given up her last wishes of wanting to get out of the abandoned sewer of the Asylum and die with some dignity instead of just wasting away like a forgotten candle. And so, she clung to this new opportunity with trepidation, her anger, apathy and fear mixing inside her chest in constant disagreement.

She opened the cell gate and narrowed her eyes, looking carefully at the Hollows as she passed on through the corridor. Naturally, they didn't pay her the slightest attention. What could easily spot her if she wasn't careful, however, was the colossal demon who served as guardian in the adjoining room, pacing from side to side like a caged dog. She decided to leave the hallway as soon as possible, without any desire to try her good luck or the rusty bars separating her from the gigantic beast.

She made her way through the flooded corridors and climbed up a rusty ladder with barely any strength, numb and cold. But stopping was no longer an option; she could almost smell the outside air.

Dropping to the ground upstairs, she struggled to breathe, even if breathing didn't give her more than an empty and unnecessary pleasure. It wasn't nearly the same as breathing being alive, but it made her feel a little bit better. Didn't she at least deserve the right to pretend she could enjoy the most basic pleasures of living humans? The curse couldn't just take away her sanity; no, it had also to destroy everything that made life worth living. Breathing, feeling the wind on soft skin, eating, drinking, touching someone, sleeping. Gods, how she missed being able to just sleep. Truly sleep, not just wandering into de darkness.

Shaking her head, she pushed those thoughts away and unhurriedly walked through the vast courtyard over patched grass and recent snow, searching around and waiting for some danger to come at her. But what called her attention was far from dangerous. At the centre of the courtyard rested a nearly extinguished fire, impaled with the skeleton of an ancient sword, ashes and piled up bones, but it was like a beacon in the dark for her. She felt a tingling feeling inside her, urging her to approach it, and step by step, she obeyed that impulse. She knew what to do, and her hand did not hesitate as she neared the dying flame fire. Blade didn't even flinch when the Darksign reacted and burned her cadaverous skin, answering to her cursed nature as the bonfire lit with a timid crackle and reminded her of the presence of the sacred and accursed Flame.

She sat for a moment to strengthen the link and walked away. If her body died again, that bonfire would send the imperious order to rise again by its side in an infinite circle of undeath. It wasn't pleasant nor adequate, but it was better than rising up in an unknown location, something Blade had sadly experienced many times before and had the risk of exposing her to even more deaths and confusion.

With a sigh of resignation, she opened the enormous bronze carved gates closing the courtyard, forcing her limp body to push the heavy thing and entering a larger courtyard leading to the entrance. She was so close to getting out, with no guards in sight, so close to leaving the cold behind…

A massive demon fell from the sky right in front of her, causing the ground and columns to tremble under its weight. Blade regained her balance with a lump in her throat and prepared to run, recognizing this twisted monster roaming free as a similar one to the demon trapped near her cell. It could quickly reduce her to a bloody pulp with its enormous hammer, which she didn't particularly want to go through.

"Damn it!" she grimly cursed.

She wasn't prepared to confront such a creature with only a broken sword at her disposal, so she ran like a crazy little mouse to take refuge among the columns and pots flanking the courtyard. The demon roared and hit everything around it with its hammer to try to stop her, but Blade threw herself headlong into a side aisle that was her timely salvation just as it struck behind her. The beast couldn't follow her in there, which fueled its anger. She could still hear it growling, enraged, while she crawled into the next hall. She had no choice but to take an absurd detour to find a way to neutralize the demon if she wanted to escape without being crushed like a fly.

There was a hostile Hollow at the end of the narrow roofless corridor she was about to walk in. Blade saw the Hollow's bow just in time and hurried to cover herself in a lateral cell. She eyed one of the many corpses lying on the ground in her hiding place. It must have belonged to a prison guard who ended up… well, quite dead. But she didn't care about who it was before, especially since the corpse had a decent scimitar and shield beside it.

Wielding a proper sword, instinctive memory of combative training came rushing back to her brittle mind. With a weapon in her hands, she knew she could make her way through anything to survive, including the stony-skinned demon with disproportionate buttocks and wings too small to fly high enough to avoid direct combat.

It was almost way so easy to break through the Hollows now, as she quickly remembered how to coordinate her numb body properly, raise the shield and move the sword, enjoying the mindless yearning to defeat more enemies. Then, when they hurt her, she used the pain and attacked them back as if they were the physical root of her pain and problems. Everything was easier with a weapon in her hands; she could face some of her fear and uncertainty. Everything else was unnecessary; she just had to act, just…

Blade paused when she slowly began to climb some narrow stairs leading out to the upper area of the courtyard, approaching the nearest wall. What was that sound, like someone dragging something heavy just above?

She didn't have time to think before a euphoric growl echoed through the walls, and the Hollow waiting upstairs sent her a welcoming gift: a giant stone ball rolling down directly towards her. The massive sphere went down so fast she couldn't avoid it any other way than throwing herself to the nearby stairs descending to the bonfire. However, the ball hit her hard on the flank, making her lose stability and probably all dignity when she fell rolling down the stairs. An average human would have suffered several broken ribs, a twisted ankle or a sore shoulder by the concussion, but Blade could thank undeath for making it terribly derisory. On the other hand, destroying the damn Hollow seemed highly urgent.

Grimacing, Blade leaned on her hands, took the sword and charged upstairs, howling. It was almost pleasant to see how the Hollow gaped, terrified, before she brutally cut off its head. The pain would accompany her for hours because of that wretched idiot… How had that husk even got that ball up there? It was absurd.

Again, she had to turn her attention back when she heard something from behind, surprised to find a huge hole the ball had created hitting the wall, revealing an improvised entrance to the room behind it. That wouldn't have mattered in the least if she hadn't heard a panting breath and several moans of pain coming from inside.

Blade approached the hole with her guard up and peeked very slowly inside, tense and ready to fight. She almost spat a condemnable blasphemy when she saw that there was a familiar man flat on his back inside the room. She hurried over the rubble and knelt near to the astoran knight who had earlier thrown her the corpse with the key, the same who had given her an empty ray of hope and freedom amidst the eternal darkness. The man was seriously wounded; she could hear his laboured breathing inside the closed helmet while he lay against the wall, too weak to get up.

Blade hesitated. She could feel death hovering over him like so many times it had hovered over her, and it was both something familiar and terrible. However, the knight still seemed to cling to life. He turned to her and spoke from inside his helmet with a canned and tired voice.

"Oh, you… You're no Hollow, eh?"

Despite the evident weakness wearing him down, his voice was firm, and Blade found herself remembering what it was like to feel empathy, to have her cursed heart shrinking at the sight of a warrior slowly fading away and stoically fighting death.

"No, I'm not," she murmured, grimacing with her lifeless, dry face.

"Thank goodness…" said the knight, seeming to find relief in it. "I'm done for, I'm afraid… I hope that taking you out of the cell might at least mend my failure somehow. I'll die soon, then lose my sanity." And we both know what that means, she thought, remembering the unhappy wretches crowding the Asylum. "I wish to ask something of you."

"You helped me out of that horrible cell, knight, so I'll settle my debt. However, you could have thrown me a proper functional sword. If you want to get out of here, I'll do everything to help you and…"

The knight abruptly cut her off.

"No, listen, I beg of you. You and I, we're both Undead" Blade grimly nodded. Even though it was evident that he had saved her just to fulfil his own bows in a kind of selfish way, that man had helped her, and the least he deserved was for her to listen. "Regrettably, I have... failed in my mission, but perhaps you can keep the torch lit. There is an old saying in my family: Thou who art Undead, art chosen… In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know."

He watched her closely with dulled grey eyes from inside the helmet, but Blade didn't know what the hell she was supposed to answer to that. The land of the Ancient Lords?

"You're talking about Lordran," she dryly stated, remembering the name through foggy memories.

"That's right", he confirmed with a tired sigh. "When you find yourself without a purpose in your cursed existence, without any guidance, thinking that maybe you're the Chosen Undead might give you a new goal, as it gave it to me."

Sadly, she couldn't deny that she had no goals and no future, and that scared her. The only thing remaining for her was to die fighting instead of succumbing to the weakening fear crouching in her insides.

"I'm not a chosen one. Everyone wants to believe that they can change this rot preying on humanity, but they're just desperate fools chosen to carry the damn curse, nothing more," she said.

How could he be so blind? Starting a pilgrimage was absurd; no one had ever returned, the Gods stayed silent, and it was pretty obvious there was no solution to the curse. The knight calmly spoke, noticing the desperation and refusal of the Undead woman but with no intention of forcing her to believe in his words.

"Anyway, now you know… and I can die with hope in my heart." He seemed to be nearing the end but still looked confident, thinking he was spending his last moments doing the right thing. He obviously saw the scepticism in Blade's empty eyes but didn't have any more time to regret and dwell on his situation, so he let out a weak laugh and reached for something in his pocket. "One more thing… here, take this, Estus, an Undead favourite, and the key… you can't leave without it."

Blade took both objects with apprehension, being way too valuable to deliver freely to a stranger. Why did the knight trust the honour of his memory to a stranger? He was brave, sure, and he certainly didn't deserve to die and roam the halls with the Hollows… Was it just desperation? Why did he release her in the first place when he was still not deadly injured and about to die and lose his mind? She was so confused and lost that she didn't even know what to think or what to do, feeling hopelessly trapped in her newfound freedom.

Blade took the knight's gloved hand, squeezed it and looked at him with an unexpected determination. Perhaps it was reminiscent of her humanity, a brief symptom that maybe she wasn't so painfully empty after all.

"I can clear the way to get you out, help you leave this place before the end," she offered. A dignified death. A gift.

Again, the knight weakly laughed.

"You have an honourable heart, but you must leave as soon as possible. I don't want to hurt you. You'll do much more for me if you survive and continue what I couldn't finish."

Blade frowned, ignoring the allusion to her honourable heart. Somehow she was sure as hell that she wasn't particularly honourable.

"At least tell me your name if you remember it."

She would try to remember it since he would soon forget it. Kindness was an expensive gift in those days, and he had offered it freely to her.

"Oscar of Astora. Goodbye now, fellow Undead."

She knew she should leave but stayed a few minutes longer. Then, feeling an unknown weight growing inside her chest, she finally got up and left him alone, ignoring that foreign sensation. Blade could hear the knight expiring behind her in solitude and felt the souls he had accumulated flowing towards her, but she didn't turn around.

Increasingly taciturn, Blade opened the upper gate and furiously cleared her way through the Hollows. She really loathed them. Those creatures reminded her every waking moment what her own future might be, just like Oscar's. On the other hand, maybe it was just the fate of each Undead to be alone and lose every drop of hope as if someone had pierced and broken them inside.

She looked down from a ledge into the courtyard occupied by the demon, thinking it made sense for it to be responsible for Oscar's defeat, the one making him fall down the roof into that room where he ended up dying just before she found it. She held the dark-eyed creature's gaze, and her anger flared up. Blade accepted loneliness, fear, death and even hatred, she made them her own and used them, but she wouldn't take the injustice of imprisonment or any kind of defeat. Howling, she jumped down the demon's head, burying the old sword in hard inhuman flesh and enjoying hearing every angry growl the beast uttered in sheer pain. She moved quickly, launching herself to the ground, dull rage guiding her hand and body as she rolled and slashed the creature. The revenge and the pleasure she found in the killing weren't nearly enough, but even with her body wounded and terribly tired, Blade enjoyed it. It made her feel like herself once again.

Thanks to the Estus flask, she could now drink and heal, letting an invigorating heat inside remind her what it was to feel relief. She thanked Oscar and his sacrifice and left the Asylum, making a decision. If only despair awaited the accursed Undead, she would fight against her very cursed existence like Oscar, and so many other fools had; she would fight to the end. Nothing else remained for her.

She looked around, tired and in pain, as she stepped through the carved bronze gates that had kept her from freedom all this time.

High mountains surrounded the Asylum with their bare slopes and snow-capped peaks. The old building stood scraping the misty clouds in the long-forgotten lands destined for those shunned by the same humanity who suffered an unavoidable fate, foolishly thinking they could escape if they locked up those suffering.

While walking towards the path's edge, Blade observed the ravines and precipices. The wild nothingness. The air was limpid, cold as ice. The entire place was a grave. It was just like the Undead, cold, empty and lonely.

Giant black wings struck the air in front of her as she reached the nest perched on the edge of the cliff. The black-eyed crow looked at her as Velka herself, goddess of sin and forgiveness, measuring her, and she didn't struggle when the immense creature grabbed her in its claws and cackled with pride.

As much as she wanted to deny it, there it was, the first symbol of the accursed pilgrimage, flapping its wings.

The giant bird took her far from the Asylum, away from the cold, death and loneliness, bringing her closer to the heavens. She was finally going to abandon the lands of men in a stupid attempt to defy the shame of rotting alone, and she swore to the memory of Oscar of Astora she would try to do it. Even if it was stupid and useless, she would not cease on her new path.

Blade was going to die fighting, one way or another.

Chapter Text

Ever since she was lifted to the heavens, all she could see were the endless grey clouds and their golden rims hiding a sun too weak to lighten the world fully. Sometimes she couldn't even open her eyes, flying at full speed between the crow's enormous claws, furrowing the skies with the dark elegance of a black arrow.

They had left behind the cold air of the mountains hours ago; now it was strangely tempered, and for some reason, that made her feel slightly better, less burdened by the ever-present death looming over her heart. Her head still was an unattended mess drowned by confusion, plaguing her with a dry reminiscence of feelings she didn't even know how to understand. Perhaps, in another time, the woman she had once been would have been able to recognize her restlessness, loneliness or pain, but each day was increasingly difficult to distinguish even the smallest of things.

She tried by all possible means to focus on abandoning the futility of a rampant mind, but it proved to be nearly impossible until the raven decided to fly over the lowlands at long last, finally pulling her out of her thoughts.

Blade struggled to keep her eyes open against the raging wind hitting her face, distinguishing ancient constructions in the distance. Tall walls rose, dark and abandoned, as a reminder of the glory of the past. Enormous trees climbed the steep slopes topped by some old forgotten tower. Barbicans and thick pillars stood devoured by neglect. That place had a disproportionate scale, and Blade had difficulties imagining which architects might have designed and built such a gigantic kingdom as she gawked in awe.

Suddenly, the crow bent and plummeted as they flew over a giant tree near the highest walls, and Blade screamed at the top of her lungs, feeling like she was free-falling until the bird unfolded its wings in a circle to slow down. A short distance separated her from the ground, but her eyes were too watery for her to see anything, and her heart was beating too wildly to hear a thing. The crow released her without landing, and Blade shouted again when her only subjection disappeared, living a moment of sheer panic until she touched the ground. Her heart was beating way too fast, and her legs were shaking out of control, even if she had suffered no damage during the fall. After all, it didn't make sense for the bloody bird just to kill her, throwing her like a useless sack after carefully keeping her alive for hours, but she couldn't help panicking after flying like a rabbit between an eagle's claws.

I might as well stop losing whatever dignity I have left, screaming like a frightened child, she thought, straightening up as much as she could and making sure that her sword was well sheathed, systematically adjusting the shield strap on her back and keeping her breathing under control.

Huffing, she looked up, searching for the crow. She couldn't see it among the gigantic branches of the tree, but she did observe with innocent fascination how the rays of a distant and cloudy sun filtered through the green leaves of the centenary tree rising hundreds of meters from the ground, covering the entire place like an old living roof. Maybe the crow had left looking for more miserable Undead to carry around. Either way, she wasn't wasting any more time with it.

Blade scowled at the strange place cautiously. Every structure seemed to gather around an old bonfire sitting in the bones of some forgotten ruins patched by green moss and wild vines, rising in a circle. The floor, where only a few stairs survived, was now covered by a thin layer of grass, and beyond, a ravine cut the ground behind ancient stone arches leading to a huge empty fall. It was a quiet place, keeping an ancient tranquillity impossible to ignore, and yet somehow resembled the antechamber of danger itself. Tranquillity was always ephemeral.

"So… this is Lordran," she murmured to herself, vaguely impressed. It was certainly beautiful and old, but she expected… more. Gigantic palaces and godly places, beautifully ethereal constructions perhaps. This place seemed just… grim.

She winced at the sound of a voice behind her.

"Welcome to the Firelink Shrine," someone said. Blade quickly turned to face the stranger, muscles tense and ready to react. How had she overlooked the man sitting indolently two meters away from where she had landed? "A new arrival. Well, well, how interesting. Let me guess... Fate of the Undead and all that nonsense, right?"

Blade shifted her weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable by the stranger's demeanour. He didn't look like much, an average soldier with an old chain mail, a sword and an undoubtedly pitiful mood. His hair was short and dark, with features of the western lands but not a single scar showing he was a battle-hardened warrior.

Blade lifted her chin with pride.

"What do you even know?" she snapped, stiffening up.

"Well, you're not the first…" He examined her from head to toe and raised an eyebrow at her unpleasant, nearly Hollowed appearance, but Blade nonchalantly ignored it even if it stung. "There's no salvation here, so you might as well go back and rot in that stinking Asylum."

"Since I'm going to rot anyway, I'll do it wherever I want to," she curtly replied, feeling like breaking the man's indolent smile with a shield blow at that moment.

The man laughed, and the urge grew even stronger, but Blade just gritted her teeth in a distasteful grimace and kept her hands balled into fists.

"Perhaps you didn't notice the stupid prophecy's only purpose is to attract fools to its end. You certainly don't look like much. I don't think you could survive two days here without Hollowing, " the man apathetically said.

Blade spat at his feet, blaspheming harshly and making the man bounce on the spot. Well, she wasn't going to break his face just yet, but if she held her displeasure any longer, she feared she could rot right on the spot from pure anger and disdain.

"Shut your mouth!" she growled, letting her anger and weariness get the best of her. She didn't notice how acid her tone had been until she saw the man's horrified look. Blade composed herself, clearing her throat and feeling much better after throwing that out. "I know the prophecy is just a pile of rubbish, but it's better to do this stupid pilgrimage and fight than to sit on a rock and wait while the crows feast on my dry brains and moan about how bad I feel about it."

"That's not… I meant no offence, " the man said, taken aback.

"Yeah, sure. Then keep your opinions to yourself."

Even if Blade disliked him, she didn't really want to fight the first human being she encountered during her pilgrimage. She wasn't even sure what she was doing, it was all because of a promise made to a dead man, and she was an unstable mess.

"Well..." the man went on, clicking his tongue. "Since you'll start the pilgrimage anyway, at least let me help you so I can prove I meant no disrespect. This place changes you… You'll see it for yourself."

"I'm listening, but hurry up. The sooner I head out looking for the bell, the better."

"Alright then. There are two Bells of Awakening, actually. One's up above, in the Undead Parish, and the other is far, far below, in the ruins at the base of Blighttown," he explained, returning to his previous apathy. "Ring them both and, well… something happens. So, off you go; it is why you came, isn't it?" the man shakily said. He laughed halfheartedly and lost all attention, looking back to the floor.

Blade wondered if all those arriving at Lordran had really gone irrevocably mad or if it was just the crestfallen soldier, crushed by the weight of the pilgrimage and mislead by hope. For her, it was not a long-planned trip with big expectations; she felt no real passion or hope.

So, two bells? Well then, there is no difference between one and two bells, she thought as she walked past a pit with a corpse lying on the old rock. There might as well be four or six bells, she just wanted to fight and die in battle instead of cradled away in fear, and the pilgrimage was just a means to an end.

Blade hushed those inner thoughts spurred by the crestfallen soldier and obtained her first prize right by the pit, something that inspired her curiosity and allowed her to focus on the present fully. She slightly smiled when she took the little beings from the remains of the corpse, two small humanities, like pixies of black smoke and bright eyes floating aimlessly, barely the size of a hand. She had never seen one of those before but heard about how valuable they were, so she took them and kept them, listening to how they buzzed happily when they met her dry skin. She didn't know how to use such creatures but took them anyway.

Now, she had to continue.

It can't be that hard to face this last lonely journey, Blade thought while climbing up the stairs nestled in one side of the ravines towards the aqueduct crossing the area, which seemed the best way to move forward.

She took a quick look around from the top side of the Shrine and decided it wasn't a very good idea to get into the western cemetery; there seemed to bone stirring on the ground, and the path leading downstairs dragged a cold and repelling stench, while the upper area led to a non-functional elevator. To make things worse, there was a blond grumpy-faced cleric in bulging armour that sent her away like she was some mangy dog nagging around, so Blade decided to get away before she ended up buying her sword in someone else's guts in that bloody Shrine.

Obviously, people were not especially receptive around the place, so she focused on looking for a path to travel as far away as possible, grumbling and cursing between gritted teeth.

An easy, pleasant trip, no doubt.

Blade wasn't really surprised when she found several Hollows ahead. No wonder, Lordran had been the area from which the curse expanded. Trouble was; those Hollows wore armour and looked far more vicious than any other she had encountered before.

She drew her sword and fought the first one without difficulty, still feeling confident and pretending it wasn't so different from any other Hollows she had encountered before, at least until the other raging creatures decided to show her its hospitality and correct her.

Someone fell on top of her, and she felt something cold piercing through her shoulder and rib cage while the attacker fell to the side, growling. Blade gasped, feeling unbearable deep pain and tried to regain stability to no avail. It had pierced the lung, the heart… Everything became misty and dark. The world stopped making sense around her, and everything was blurring…

She opened her eyes, cold and dead. Dead again. Undead.

She was sitting by the Shrine bonfire.

That damn Hollow caught her completely off guard, leaving her numb and dizzy after dying and rising again, paralyzed by excruciating pain. So, enraged and still feeling that disgusting pain throughout her entire body, she got up and made her way to the hill without even looking at the crestfallen soldier. She was so angry that the slightest mocking glance headed her way could end up in havoc for the unfortunate idiot brave enough to mess with the raging hurricane she had become at the moment. It was a good thing both the soldier and the cleric ignored her as she left the Shrine.

While furiously trying to kill the Hollows, Blade found out they were extremely dangerous, even devoid of any humanity or conscience to coordinate an attack, like broken puppets filled with knives and guided by a mental puppeteer thrashing them around in hopes of stabbing someone. And where the hell had, they found firebombs and throwing knives?

It was utterly ridiculous and dangerous, indeed, but she wouldn't lose this time; she would not die her final death to a few Hollows. Blade fought tooth and nail every single one of them in a deathly dance beating with the tempo her thundering heart and clashing weapons provided, wildly grunting when the last one hit lifeless the ground.

Victorious and wounded, she managed to get to the entrance of the aqueduct with filthy stagnant water soaking her boots and blood dripping from her wounds, stepping over the corpses of her enemies. It felt so ridiculously good she almost wanted to laugh and growl and look for more like a wild animal, knowing all too well the increasing blood thirst grumbling deep in her soul. It was something she had probably been doing and feeling her entire life, even if she couldn't remember anymore, and there was no shame in burying herself in that brutal song until she couldn't move and fight anymore.

Peering into the darkness, she wondered if there was any place free of hilariously murderous creatures outside the Shrine and got her answer as soon as she reached the vast town beyond the passage. In that desecrated town, the Undead crowded every street and corner, and they weren't nearly as stupid and mechanical as she wished them to be. They ambushed her, getting out from long inactivity, ready to kill anything, jumping from corners, furious and chaotic. It was sad to see that burg, those stone buildings where people would have lived, now swarming with murderous shells of human beings. She could still see furniture and household utensils of the old tenants and sometimes the dry and slobbering tenants themselves, ready to stick anything pointy to anyone passing by. In fact, Blade found one who seemed to think it was perfectly well hidden behind shelves, with an axe ready in its hands, waiting in its ridiculous hiding place.

Sighing and stretching her muscles after the latest fights, Blade sat down a few steps away and picked up several pebbles. She started throwing them to the Hollow's head, and the creature, which couldn't see her because of the same shelves it used to hide, only issued a muffled grunt. Blade kept throwing the pebbles absentmindedly, especially enjoying hitting them in the eyes.

"You're pretty stupid, you know," she casually said. "Did you think I wouldn't see you there?"

The Hollow immediately growled and reacted at the sound of her voice, charging against the shelves and launching at Blade with unexpected speed. She barely had any time to stand up, raise the shield and avoid ending up with her head open by an axe by the same Hollow she had taken for a fool.

Even though she defeated it, she took one more cut in the arm and several blows to the face as a gift for her arrogance. She grumbled, annoyed, and went back to a wide courtyard cursing and making sure there were no more enemies around. Blade felt a bonfire nearby and went straight to rest while Estus healed her wounds.

Once she ensured it was a safe area, she slept without qualms, hoping to rest for a few hours. It looked like Hollows were triggered by movement and voice, clearly avoiding bonfires, so she allowed herself to lower her guard and heal her wounds.

As always, she only dreamed about darkness, about empty memories full of pain and horror, falling into a deep pit all too familiar. She hated sleeping since she had been cursed, but it was a necessity that not even Undeath took away from her. She preferred hours and hours of fighting and forgetting everything through blood and pain because thinking and dreaming sometimes were almost unbearable.

Blade quickly learned that there was a trap or an enemy behind every corner in Lordran, and death was eager to sink its claws on the unaware traveller and could very possibly manage to do it.

Going up seemingly empty narrow stairs led her directly into a trap where she had been welcomed with a flaming barrel, forcing her to jump down through a hole in the railing onto a lower ledge. As if that wasn't enough, she landed in front of a huge black armoured knight.

Blade slowly raised from the ground, almost paralyzed under its gaze.

She had never seen such a tall inhuman knight, huffing and growling, wearing an intricate black armour with twisted horns in its helmet. There was nothing but darkness behind the holes in its helmet. It was big enough to carry a broadsword as if it were a mere one-handed sword and a heavy shield as a lithe chunk of wood, and she was right in front of it.

The knight threw a direct cut towards her that might have pierced her chest like butter, but Blade rolled forward, slipping between its long legs. She tried to run away, but this was no simple Hollow, and it only took a second longer for it to turn around and launch an onslaught with the shield, making her fall flat on her face as soon as the shield hit her back. Blade lost all air in her lungs with the blow, and felt the sword burning and sliding between her ribs, nailing her to the ground. Death came to take her back. She could feel its cold arms pulling her into the darkness even though she fought against it with all her might. How many times could she die without losing her sanity yet? She had lost count and somehow feared she should have gone Hollow long ago; Blade knew it, she knew this might as well be her last chance to fight back, and all she could do was lie on the ground covered in her own blood, hissing and breathing with a sword embedded onto her chest. Oh, no, she wanted to die fighting, but that didn't mean she would make it easy.

She howled in pain when the knight abruptly withdrew the blade from her body, leaving her bleeding, dizzy and weak. Struggling, she stepped aside and gritted her teeth as blood soaked her entire armour once again. But she couldn't afford to pay any more attention to agony -at that point, it was the most common part of her life- she took her sword and growled when she felt an unbearable pain tearing through her guts as she interposed her weapon between her and the knight.

Having lost the shield with the blow, she would only have one chance for a counterattack.

Blade shoved the knight away, roaring in pain, and rolled back. She stepped out of reach from the knight's sword, about to lose her balance as she climbed onto a stone railing with her entire body shaking, and as quick as a cornered cat, she jumped onto the knight's shoulders, taking momentum, carrying out the madness that no one else would have thought of in such a situation. Perched on the shoulders of her annoyed opponent, Blade plunged the sword twice into his neck, between the groove of the helmet and the gorget. But it didn't die. In fact, it only got angrier and tried to grab her. The knight might have succeeded if it had released its weapons, but as it didn't, Blade avoided it, encircling it harder by the pinched collar of the armour, taking advantage of her petite stature and plunging the sword deep into its neck.

The knight let out an inhuman, chilling howl and threw her flying through the air, dying, falling apart to become a huge cloud of souls as it released its heavy weapons.

And she… was she going to die?

Blade tasted blood running down her lips. No. She had survived with a crooked arm and a worrying hole in her torso that would be a problem if she didn't do something to mend it soon.

Struggling to take her Estus flask, she grasped it between nimble fingers and drank eagerly, feeling how the warm liquid recomposed her body little by little. She closed her eyes, thinking she had Oscar to thank for that, lying on the ground like a rag doll and increasingly oblivious to death's grasp.

It was incredibly difficult to get up and walk even if Estus healed her quickly enough, but she had no choice. Staying would only increase the chances of another enemy crawling around to kill her.

She pushed herself back on her feet and found the Hollow soldier who had thrown her the barrel, angrily pushing it into the void, and watched with pleasure as it screamed and fell.

"I swear if any Hollow throws something else at me, I will dismember it slowly," she hissed before continuing.

The pain was still raw, and she only wanted to find the damn Parish as soon as possible. Going Hollow at the very beginning of the pilgrimage wouldn't be even worthy of the crestfallen soldier. It was sad and pitiful.

As she climbed up the abandoned tower, Blade wondered if anyone might have a convenient map of the area. She couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous it sounded, grimacing at the pain the movement brought to her sore ribs. If anything, she would ask the next Hollow around, just in case it wanted to guide her instead of gut her with a jagged sword or throw her a flaming barrel.

Blade frowned and watched the wide parapet walk ahead, looking back at the humongous demon corpse she had just killed, panting heavily. Slowly, the body disappeared in a cloud of blood and timid souls flowing towards her, but she was so tired that she could barely stand up or even appreciate the souls accumulating inside her. The beast had been a massive and strong one indeed, capable of using its advantage to easily overcome her and crush her to the ground with its hammer, but after several failures, Blade climbed up the nearest tower and used high ground to get even with it.

Letting her feet take her down the path, she sighed, feeling drained and tired after several deaths before killing the monstrosity, still wondering about the looming moment she would lose her sanity or die forever. She didn't remember being so absurdly tired in her life; she couldn't even go a step further, coughing blood and trembling…

Blade found herself returning to the bonfire instead of taking down the path to continue beyond the demon area, fiddling a little Humanity in her free hand, little more than a gleaming black and white blur dancing over her open palm. The little creature started sliding down, and Blade ended up crushing it between her fingers while trying to catch it, noticing how it suddenly merged with her and pushed death further from her body. So, that was it. It had to be destroyed, like everything else, to make it her own. And it was so pleasant…

She could just lie by the fire now, a safe place, almost a home, and rest…

It was extremely odd waking up to find light was always the same. She didn't know how twilight seemed to cling to a never-ending day since the Flame started to die and death itself stopped working properly.

Blade shook her head, wishing again she still needed to eat, drink and fulfil all human things the curse took away from her, but feeling a little better after sleeping. She tossed her helmet aside and breathed in the fresh air as she walked towards the walkway, where she defeated the demon. She was still tired, and sleeping wasn't nearly the same as before, but she could now rise and move without stumbling on her way through the burg.

Careful not to draw attention, she went up the wall and downstairs until she stumbled against a thick wooden door, opening it and wondering if she was near her destination. But on the other side, there was no Parish at all; she found herself facing another wooden door. There was a huge stone bridge beyond, crowded with Hollows and corpses at their feet at one side and a balcony at the other.

She sat down heavily on the stone floor against the wall of a balcony where the bridge ended up with a wide circular shape, tired, dropping her weapons without much care while wearily looking at the Hollows.

There might be six or seven of them, crossbowmen, warriors and spearmen. Damn it all. Well, isn't this what you wanted?

She glanced over the stone railing. There was nothing but a wide open cloudy sky, the nice and timid sun and…

Blade immediately frowned when she saw the balcony was indeed larger than expected, and it wasn't empty at all. A peculiar knight stood there intensely looking at the open sky as if it was the most complex and interesting canvas, facing the sun without even the slightest of concerns about the Hollows entrenched on the bridge. Another madman, perhaps? A Hollow knight of some sort? Just an eclectic traveller? It was certainly bizarre.

Even though she waited for a long time in absolute silence, far enough not to be noticed, the knight kept looking up at the sun every second with the same prideful and determined pose. Something inside of her kept whispering he didn't look horribly dangerous, just peculiar, and she couldn't help but trust the instincts that still lingered within her and seemed to indicate whether or not she was in possible danger around someone. She was also naturally curious, as the abundance of souls she had gathered helped push away de darkness and resurfaced slightly human things beyond the need to get herself into a killing spree.

You're an idiot, she muttered to herself as she slowly went downstairs, leaving her hideout behind. Losing your time to meet another disgusting weirdo…

Blade kept a close eye on him as she approached. He might know something about the Parish if he wasn't Hollow or straight out hostile, and that was a good excuse as any to feel less stupid about the situation.

She didn't recognize his armour. It wasn't a regular one in the slightest. A rather simple metal great helm with a red feather on top, a battered mail armour, a white surcoat with some sort of heraldic sun painted on the chest that had clearly seen better days, and the weirdest pauldrons made of the green mane of some unknown beast. And despite his strong constitution, he apparently only had a one-handed sword with no special insignia and a heavy round shield with the same hand-made sun on its white surface lying against the railing.

The knight moved his head to face her as she approached but didn't seem alarmed at all by her sudden appearance.

"Ah, hello! You don't look Hollow, far from it. A nice change, if you ask me," he cheerfully saluted.

His voice sounded canned because of the helmet, warm, deep and metallic, but not heavy nor bitter in the slightest. At first, Blade thought he was mocking her. How in the hell didn't she look like a Hollow? She couldn't even remember when she had looked barely human. The knight, who even being clearly cursed, showed bare strong and fleshy human-looking hands was nothing like her, dry, revolting…

She flinched, noticing for the first time her hands filling all the gloves, almost full, almost…

Blade took off one of the leather gloves and gazed gaping at her own hand, alive, covered with flesh and soft skin once again. Hesitant, she touched her own face, breathing heavily. Joy and incredulity shone in her intense grey eyes when she caressed her soft and warm skin, her jet black hair escaping the bun, her serious full lips, her proud cheekbones.

So, the little Humanity did something for her, after all.

The knight curiously looked at her through the great helm's eye-slit, like he didn't quite understand the nature of her astonishment. Blade looked back at him, composing herself despite the roaring feelings still battering her chest.

"Who are you?" she asked, clearing her throat and trying to stay externally calm.

"I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight," he proclaimed, brimming with radiant pride.

"Blade," she curtly said. Another astoran knight dedicating his life to a hopeless and brutal pilgrimage that would end up being the death of them all. This one seemed much less high and mighty, though, much wackier, and she seriously doubted he was an actual knighted man of Astora wearing those rags and pieces of armour. "So, what are you doing here?" she asked, pointing to the balcony and the wide cloudy sky.

The self-proclaimed knight followed her gaze back up to the abundant sunbathed clouds, and Blade saw his warm blue eyes shining with delight behind the helmet's eye-slit.

"It's a magnificent place to admire the power of the sun."

"The power of the sun?" she asked in confusion, raising an eyebrow. "You stopped your pilgrimage to look at the dying sun?"

"I am in no pilgrimage. That's not why I'm here."

"Why are you here, then? To appreciate the scenery while the curse keeps its course?"

"Oh, well…" The knight chuckled. "Now that I am Undead, I have come to this great land, the birthplace of Lord Gwyn, to seek my very own sun!" Blade looked at him with eyes wide open. He was looking for… what? He was most certainly bonkers. The knight gave a hearty laugh with one hand on his chest. Blade tried to hide her astonishment under a tense grimace. "Come on, no need to hide your reaction. I get that look all the time!"

Blade shook her head, keeping to herself how ridiculous, stupid and childish his purpose clearly was.

"I thought everyone came here to know the fate of the Undead and break the curse," she said, closely watching the knight.

He didn't seem bothered at all by her questions or even by her badly hidden scepticism.

"My fate is to find my own sun; I willingly became Undead to pursue it. I leave the noble purpose of finding a solution for the curse to others," he said.

As soon as she heard those words so casually coming out of his mouth, Blade came close to having a stroke of sheer incredulity and sudden rage.

"What?! You willingly became Undead?" she roared, seething with anger and shaking at the effort not to throw herself to choke him with her bare hands. It was insulting, preposterous and infuriating to hear with such levity that he got himself cursed to follow such a stupid quest when people all around the world had their lives ruined against their will. When she had everything, absolutely everything, taken away without even remembering what she had lost. "How dare you? Is this a joke to you? Here we are, all screwed up, cursed and suffering while you purposely… you…"

Rabid anger flowed through her veins, and she started pacing like a caged lion, looking at him with a wild scowl and fighting to keep her hands away from the pommel of her sword. She saw how his eyes turned serious and weary behind the great helm, carefully laying a hand on his sheathed sword's hilt. She was furious and insulted, but it wasn't worth drawing a sword. Even her pained mind could see it was clearly disproportionate. She focused on her breathing, stopping and biting hard, glueing her eyes to the ground until she trusted herself to be able to look up at the knight without losing her mind.

She noticed, horrified that something wet was slipping down her cheeks, and her eyes were warm and watery.

Am I… crying? What the hell… As if the situation couldn't get any more mortifying, she thought in absolute panic and confusion as she sharply wiped her face with her forearm, refusing to meet the knight's eyes and turning around with a frustrated groan.

She wasn't one to cry; she knew that, so she hurriedly left the place in absolute shame for her inability to control her own emotions. That was surely part of the curse, the instability that came in with the wave erasing her own sanity, but it was crushing to lose her dignity alongside everything else. It had been the last thing she could hold on to.

Blade ran inside the corridors near the Taurus demon again, dropping to the ground and forcing herself to focus and calm down.

You were a proud warrior once. You have seen horrible things and withstood terrible loss without batting an eye; you cannot bend like this just for a mere conversation… But was she? She didn't know where those ideas came from or if they were real. Dark and cold thoughts started flaring in her mind, much like those plaguing her in the Asylum, and she couldn't help but wrap her hands around her head and breathe heavily, ignoring the pain rising from the sign embedded into her chest, swallowing her whole…

Blade flinched when she heard steps coming on her way. She laid her hand on the hilt of her sword, looking at the stairs going down to the bridge and the balcony and releasing it at the sight of the sunlight warrior. He had grabbed his shield in one hand, kept his sword sheathed, and was most definitely coming to meet her. That made her both furious and uncomfortable in equal parts.

Standing up defiantly, she looked up at him, but even if she couldn't see his face, he just sounded… worried?

"Are you alright?" he cautiously asked.

"Why yes, better than ever," she replied coldly, arching her eyebrows. "Leave me alone."

He cleared her throat and averted his gaze.

"I am sorry if I caused you any despair. It was certainly not my intention," he said, apparently absolutely genuine, but Blade couldn't care less.

"Whatever you say," she unsavoury grunted.

She had had enough of him. She was tired, angry and humiliated and just wanted to take back her previous curiosity and get rid of him. Solaire, whoever, didn't seem keen on leaving just yet. It seemed that he was the one curious right now, and Blade was under the impression that he somehow felt obligated to show interest after upsetting her.

Wonderful…

"I have not asked… Are you following the old prophecy?"

She hesitated, vaguely thinking about it, about her own buried desperation, the anger of not knowing what to do and how fiercely she clung to her new goal, refusing to be like the crestfallen man who didn't dare to leave the bonfire, his eyes full of apathetic fear and his head down. She wasn't anyone anymore, didn't even remember who she had been, so following the same delirium that dragged other Undead to Lordran, and thus please the memory of Oscar, didn't seem a bad way out if she met a worthy death.

"I don't have many options, carrying the curse. So yes, I am," she answered.

Solaire seemed bright enough to catch it, softly nodding in agreement and shaking the red feather on the top of the helmet with the movement, briefly averting his gaze once again.

"You have all the options you want to pursue," the knight said encouragingly. "Your path will take you over the bridge."

Blade looked away and grunted in response, drifting her attention from the knight to her inner thoughts. She started considering her options, giving up on the evidence that she needed to rest before marching on, sighing heavily. It was clear she still accused the recent fighting and wasn't in the best shape after spending so much idle time in the gloomy Asylum, which pissed her to no end.

Blade stood for a while, looking at the knight and the open sky in silent contemplation, trying to calm her inner turmoil before heading off. The knight Solaire seemed capable of eternally delighting in observing those thick clouds, coloured from pure white to grey leaden, gilded where the sun touched them. And why waste his time looking for his own sun while having the one up in the sky to enjoy himself? The sun was still bright and luminous even with the Flame slowly dying, and yet he seemed invested in the idea of finding another one.

Blade flinched at the knight's knowing laugh when he saw her contemplating the landscape.

"Oh, ah hah! So, I didn't scare you then?" he asked, satisfied.

Blade proudly raised her chin, swinging her feet in the air. She was strangely not uncomfortable at such heights.

"Scare me? Ha! That's a good one. It takes more than a weird man to scare me," she snapped, snorting.

The knight laughed out loud with his deep voice.

"That is not a matter of doubt," he said with a hearty laugh. Then he slowly evaluated her with kind blue eyes, pondering whether to tell her what he was thinking or not. "I have a proposition, if you have a moment."

Suddenly on guard, Blade frowned slightly in disapproval.

"What kind of proposition?" the warrior grunted, hostile and ready to leave or fight if the man said something unwanted.

"Oh, dear me! It's nothing disgusting, I assure you," Solaire said, suddenly serious and slightly embarrassed, eager to explain himself. "The way I see it, our fates appear to be intertwined. In a land brimming with Hollows, could our encounter really be mere chance? So, what do you say? Why not help one another on this lonely journey?"

Blade certainly didn't expect that.

Help? The pilgrimage was a lonely journey, and she wasn't supposed to have any help or company. She didn't even want to…

The knight took something from a bag under his belt, a white stone shaped like an arrowhead. He offered it to her, but she frowned, recoiling. Did he really think she needed help from someone like him? A so-called knight with ridiculous armour and a painted sun on his chest?

"No," Blade sharply answered, laughing at him. "I don't need your help."

The knight didn't say anything else. They remained silent for a few seconds, but he didn't seem offended by her plain refusal, even though it was evident he had expected her to accept; he just cleared his throat and withdrew his hand, storing the stone in his pocket.

"Well, yes, quite understandable. Not to worry. I do not wish to impose," he replied in the same affable tone. "I was in the wrong. We'll laugh it off, shall we?"

The knight laughed deeply, and Blade retreated, uncomfortable. She was sincerely baffled by the man, but at least it was obvious he wasn't any threat. He was just… weird. However, it was better not to push her luck any further and leave him be, just in case.

Blade didn't say any goodbyes. She just turned her back to the stranger, who returned to his contemplation of the sun, and gathered her weapons to cross the bridge.

There were hostile Hollows ahead, of course, but she would take care of them.

It couldn't be so bad. It was just a bridge full of charred corpses and Hollow soldiers. She would quickly cross it and reach the Parish, unlike the mad Sunlight knight, who surely wasn't strong enough to keep facing the dangers of this cursed kingdom and pretended he was willingly stuck on that balcony, gazing at the sun instead of just crossing the bridge. She would continue, kill everything standing in her way, and keep her mind clear in the process.

Chapter Text

Step by step, closely holding her sword and shield, Blade started walking through the great stone bridge, her resolve strengthened by her own arrogance. Once again, her response to fear and uncertainty was throwing herself onto the belief that she somehow was above others, in this occasion above the irritatingly friendly sun-crazed knight. It was easier and safer to believe that he was just a crackpot taking refuge in that open balcony because he could go no further; it was easier to believe that he was nice just to take advantage of others' skills. However, deep down inside her stirred other thoughts she didn't want to listen to, thoughts about her own fear and loneliness, about wanting to die alone somewhere along this last journey, about shame and unworthiness. But those were dark and painful things that made her vulnerable and weak, and she required her ruthless visage now more than ever. She needed to despise the world around her to be able to live with herself until she met a somewhat dignified ending. 

Shaking her head as if to scatter and squash these thoughts, she focused on the present, on the bridge.

All the Hollows guarding the bridge turned around as if sensing her presence. Blade started planning how to face the imminent frontal assault, having crossbowmen as an unpleasant additional danger.

Perhaps if I surround them, kill the crossbowmen first, then face the ones with the shields… 

She stopped, eyes wide open, paralyzed by a mighty and thunderous roar breaking the skies and shaking her entire body like a leaf. A thousand fleeting thoughts passed through her brain as she assessed the possibilities, trying to imagine what could produce such a monstrous sound and failing miserably. She turned around to look over her shoulder just as she started feeling a scorching heat burning her back like an open furnace, hearing more guttural sounds coming from that direction. She didn’t even have time to scream before she was engulfed in a sea of flames that devoured her flesh as a gigantic red figure flew over the bridge.

Blade felt death ripping her once again from reality, drowning in pain and fire. Blinded, scorched, screaming, then waking up again. She opened her eyes, gasping for air back at the bonfire, her Humanity consumed and her body aching from the ardent death she just went through. 

Slowly and carefully, she rose, grimacing and wondering in bewilderment what the hell just happened. 

That was positively terrifying. What horrors harbours this cursed land? I thought dragons were extinct, and that thing definitely had to be some sort of draconic spawn in the land of the Gods itself. Perhaps that is what stopped the astoran knight.

But Blade couldn’t afford much time to think about it or gather her thoughts; she had to go back, kill enemies and recover her strength if she intended to keep her sanity intact. It seemed things would be much more complicated than expected in Lordran, but she guessed it was part of the path she had chosen, and as much as she wished to die fighting, she didn't want to go easily or vanish at the very beginning of the journey. It was immensely frustrating facing horde after horde of Hollows coming out of nowhere in every street, every room in her way. But she couldn’t falter; she wildly charged forward, growled and killed, like some sort of insane beast out for blood. She didn’t stop until she reached the bridge again, avoiding looking towards the balcony of the Sunlight knight.

Her eyes were irremediably drawn towards the end of the bridge, to the tower where an immense creature with red scales and threatening spikes had ostentatiously landed. It was huge and, apparently, the cause of the hell that had broken loose on her. It definitely looked like some sort of minor draconic being. Unfortunately, there was no other way; the door in front of her was as firmly closed as it had been before.

Blade growled at the beast, shaking in sheer rage and fear. She was no coward. She would face it and cross the bridge or die repeatedly trying until the bitter end. She was no coward. She didn't mind her knees going weak at the thought of perishing again in a fire blitz; she didn't mind her racing heart. 

After a series of preparatory breaths, she ran across the bridge as fast as her legs allowed her, raising her shield as a meagre defence. She defiantly grunted as the monstrous thing roared and prepared itself to spit fire at her.

The Hollows along the bridge that hadn’t been burned the first time fell now into the sea of flames, and when it reached her, Blade leapt forward, trying to protect herself with her shield, feeling how the fire painfully devoured every part of her body. She screamed, blinded, dying again, unable to keep her eyes from closing and her body from melting.

She woke up. 

The painful calm, as well as the empty feeling of losing contact with all her acquired souls, implied she was back at the bonfire. Each time she died, pain, agony and fear were as real as the first time, and not each way to die was the same as the rest. Melting in a sea of flames just became one of her most hated ways to go.

Blade grunted, frustrated, kicking at the sword stuck in the squalid bonfire, angry at the idea of being stuck in that situation, unable to find another door or exit to go through that bridge dominated by the red scaly beast. Sad as it was, she had no other choice than to approach a shady Undead she had previously tried to avoid but now could hold the key to her success. So, she dragged her feet downstairs across empty streets until she reached the entrance to the balcony occupied by the strange merchant that had the brilliant idea of setting up a store in a decaying dead city. Lordran didn't stop surprising her in a macabre way.

The merchant's bright red eyes stared at her intently. He remained seated among jars, pots, expensive gadgets, and a good pile of weapons. Blade looked at him with a wrinkled, distrustful expression, but he just seemed satisfied to see her reconsider her decision to ignore him completely.

“Well, now… You seem to have your wits about you, hmm? You're not going to stab me with that sword, are you?” the merchant asked, chuckling. Blade cocked her head. “It will be my pleasure to do business with you, then. If you have souls, everything is for sale.”

“What about that bow?” Blade asked, pointing to a bow next to a quiver leaning against a piece of furniture.

“Yes, yes, everything is for sale.”

Blade approached to pick the bow, trying not to step on the other items lying around and found a curious ring collection right next to it. She frowned, looking back at the merchant.

“I suppose you stole all of this. A grimy merchant like you couldn’t possibly have such things,” she said, finally grabbing the bow and crouching down next to the merchant to let him take a few souls in exchange. 

“Of course, it's stolen! What did you expect, traveller? And as soon as something crushes your head, I’ll get everything back and sell it again,” he mocked, giggling. Letting him take her souls was quite unpleasant and made her feel even weaker, but it was necessary if she wanted to make any progress. “Don’t give me that face; it's actually quite nice here. The Hollows don’t care for a skinny old twig like me. Also, I’ve got Yulia. And you… you're Undead as well. You should appreciate the camaraderie and freedom of this land.”

Blade grimaced, rising and stretching, giving him a dry grunt in response and hanging her new bow and quiver in her back. It was pretty clear that the merchant was not natural from Lordran, but he still seemed quite happy with his situation, not interested in lifting the Curse or continuing the Pilgrimage in the slightest. And she was positive he was also absolutely crazy, not even worth holding accountable for his actions or foul words.

“I have to go,” Blade curtly said. 

“Oh, alright. Come back with more souls. And be careful, a horrible goat demon has moved in below, and up above there’s that humongous drake, and a bull demon too. If you stick around here, it might end up being your grave!” he warned, chortling again.

Blade looked at him over her shoulder, mildly irritated. He didn't seem to be warning her out of worry, but as mockery and some sort of bizarre intimidation.

“You could’ve warned me before about the damned drake, at least”, she snapped.

“And you could have bought something the first time instead of ignoring me,” he replied with a scathing gleam in his red eyes.

Swallowing her own words, Blade turned around and left the merchant alone. As much as it infuriated her, the merchant had a point, and despite the sheer rudeness of saying that he craved to see her dead to pillage her corpse, he just warned her of yet another danger. Since coming to Lordran, she learned not all foreigners were warriors; each sought the most convenient way to find souls and avoid Hollowing. Killing or trading, each chose the best way to keep their sanity. As disgusting as that merchant was, he was just trying to survive and wasn't particularly preoccupied with his manners, something she could somehow relate to.

She had to focus on the drake and discover how the hell she was going to kill the beast with the newly bought bow. It was certainly more helpful than a sword, but even so, she didn’t even know if it would really hurt the creature at all.

At the edge of the bridge, winking to adjust her eyes to the sunlight, Blade’s hands tensed upon the old wooden bow. She slowly released all the air from her lungs, hoping to reach the beast from such a distance. There was no better way to determine if it would work than testing it. So she lifted the bow, tensed the rope, pointed at the beast and fired. 

When the arrow flew following the correct path, Blade smiled, self-sufficient and pleased to hear how the red-scaled drake gave a sharp roar of pained irritation once the arrow struck its neck. And then, without hesitating about its immediate answer to the aggression, the drake pushed itself off the tower, flapped its wings and plunged towards her, spitting flames. With eyes wide open, Blade dashed in the opposite direction, shrieking when she felt the roaring flames seeking her flesh and jumped headlong into the door coming down the walkway. Once the drake flew over the area, angrily roaring, Blade leaned on her elbows and knees, rising again with a snarl.

The wanderer peeked out slowly, making sure that the beast wasn’t waiting for her outside, and cursed vigorously. She had spent her last souls in a useless bow and was now caught up in a loop, trying to cross the bridge and burning to death again and again until she finally went Hollow. The stupid monstrosity was surely waiting on top of the tower, waiting to see her so much as put a foot on the bridge to fly and roast her alive once again. How had she even come to the conclusion that a bow could take down or even bother a creature related to the most ancient and powerful beings to ever walk under the Archtrees? She could barely remember the old tales, but she was pretty sure that the Gods had to use some sort of blessed magic to bring them down, and she had absolutely no magical skills.

Blade put the bow back at her back and charged against the closed door in front of her, uttering muffled grunts. It was the only possible way out from that area other than the bridge, and it was blocked. She kicked it, threw herself against it and even attacked it with her sword, unloading blow after blow just to get a few scratches on the wood and dent the handle. Then, tired, angry, and refusing to enter the open area of the bridge again, she looked towards the balcony on the other side.

“I hope you are having fun with this, knight!” Blade shouted.

She sank down, sitting on the floor between heavy gasps, sulking.

Right now, she could picture him laughing in his irritating way at her failure. He would have hardly missed the sound of her agonizing cries every time she burst into flames. Glaring to the ground, Blade was lost in her own misery and wounded pride, feeling the cold weight of the Curse over her shoulders without a clue of what to do next, hating everything, and above all, hating herself for not being able to overcome it. She wondered if she'd always been so hopeless and unpleasant or if it was just the Curse pulling the worst out of her as it did with everyone else on the brink of their existence. Maybe that was just the nature of Humanity, and the Gods were right in their decision to abandon and despise them all, feeble and weak beings as they were.

Blade jumped when she heard metallic steps at her side, gripping the hilt of the sword out of habit. She was again on guard, prepared to get up, leaving laziness and frustration aside to defend herself.

“Do you want some help?” asked the knight’s voice, a couple of steps away from her. He was now holding his big round shield with the same heraldic sun as the one on the surcoat. Blade sighed loudly, getting up, pretending she wasn’t tired and sore and miserably failing. “Come on. There's no shame in accepting some help! We all need it sometimes.”

Taking her weapons, Blade refused to look directly at him, being in the sorry situation she was in, humiliated, dry and hideous like a Hollow, unable to hide from her inner and outside disgrace.

“I can do this myself,” she murmured, looking towards the bridge and feeling a strange pain running through her bones as she remembered the scorching fire.

“I'm also going across the bridge. We could cooperate to reach the other side,” the knight offered, standing at her side and apparently not about to give up. 

Blade turned her head in the opposite direction, uncomfortable. Although, of course, the man still ridiculously ignored her coarseness and insisted on trying to help, it was utterly ridiculous, and Blade couldn’t understand why. She hadn’t shown any gesture of kindness, so, as far as she knew, if he wasn't a coward and really intended to cross the bridge, the best thing he could actually do was ignore her and do it alone. 

“And how do you intend to get through the bridge with that damn drake standing guard, anyway?” she asked, looking at him from the corner of her eye.

She heard him making a thoughtful sound before putting a hand on his belt and picking up a small cloth amulet. Then, he secured the shield on his arm and looked at her through the helmet’s slit before tilting his head towards the bridge in a determined gesture.

Blade opened her mouth to say something snappy but went silent when he suddenly started running through the bridge much faster than any other heavy-armoured knight. Holding her own weapons tightly, she ran after him, waiting for the flames to catch him first and let her get to safety. She did it out of desperation and started regretting it midway. 

They almost reached a covered area on the right side of the bridge, protected by a railing and stairs, when the beast roared in the sky, preparing to descend and burn them. Then, the knight Solaire stopped dead on his tracks, avoiding a Hollow that had been hiding in the space leading to the stairs from cutting him with a rusty sword; he parried the weapon with his round shield, letting the Hollow follow the movement of the attack, and pierced his sword through its throat. He drew his sword out, kicked the dead Hollow away and turned to push Blade towards the stairs with a sharp blow of his shield just as the drake started to unleash a hell of flames upon them.

Blade fell, rolling down several steps with a half-burnt Hollow and skewered it, cursing between her teeth. How dared that knight push her like a sack of flour? She climbed back up, finding that the man was covering himself with his shield to avoid the flames, with his back against the bridge wall. She also covered herself without time to say or do anything before the knight used his talisman, summoning a lightning spear and sheathing his sword.

Solaire directed the spear towards the drake and shot without a second thought. The beast roared, enraged, and the entire bridge trembled when the spear hit its red scales.

Tireless, Solaire conjured another spear, and another, repeatedly hitting the drake’s head and making him cease its attacks, flayed and blinded by the miracles. Seeing such a display of electricity for the first time in her life, Blade wondered, intrigued, what else the knight had in his repertoire other than pretending to play the cleric and some respectable fighting skills. However, she had a beast to kill for the moment, and she would take advantage of it all without question. She made a run towards the last section of the bridge, to the drake’s humongous legs. The gate behind the drake was open, but they had to take the beast out of the way to get there. 

She wildly swung the sword as soon as she got under the belly, cutting off the legs of the red beast and rolling out of the way to avoid being trampled on. The possibility of being surrounded by fire again was genuine, but when she stuck the sword to the hilt and looked at the beast's head, she gaped in awe to see Solaire cutting directly into its grotesque snout. Then, skillfully avoiding the drake when it tried to bite him, he stabbed it and stopped it from spitting fire again.

Roaring in pain, the beast spread its wings and took flight, pushing both to the ground under raging winds. Dazed, Blade tried to get up immediately, but luckily the knight was already on his feet, pulling her towards the safe area beyond the bridge.

Blade dropped to the base of a statue, listening to the drake's distant and unpleasant cries as the sound receded.

It was leaving.

She finally rose with a sigh of relief, looking around and recovering from the ordeal.

The place was covered between ancient stone walls and vines; there were wide stairs to her right and an exit to a balcony to the left. She heard murmurs and moans coming from there, but what called her attention instantly was an old bonfire.

“Finally…” she said, sighing, tired and beaten and with no intention to pretend otherwise.

Rummaging through her things, she picked up other Humanity and squeezed it in the heat of the bonfire, feeling how that lost vibrant part of herself returned. She took a deep breath, forgetting the bitterness, inner cold, frustration, and painful qualities coming from her darkest self.

She wouldn’t have made it there alone, she bitterly recognized, embracing the heat of Humanity and the soothing bonfire. She noticed that Solaire, who was also recovering from the fight, was now nonchalantly examining a burned area in his right arm where the chain mail armour had blackened and would surely leave a nasty burn below. 

“Oh, dear!” the knight murmured, trying to clean the whole scorched area with the edge of the surcoat.

Vaguely grimacing, Blade lowered her hood. Maybe the man wasn't a coward after all, but he was still infuriating, with a stupidly cheerful attitude that had no place in the world.

“You've done well,” Blade growled through her teeth, clearing her throat. “But you shouldn’t have pushed me in the middle of the bridge.”

Yes, that was an essential point for her wounded ego. As important as recognizing his help. Maybe even more so. 

The knight blankly looked at her in silence for several seconds. Then he let out a nervous chuckle.

“Well, I thought you'd rather be away from the fire,” he clarified, still wiping his scorched armour. “I intended to cover myself downstairs as well but didn’t have enough time to move. Next time I won’t be so slow.”

Blade raised an eyebrow. She didn’t think that slow was an appropriate adjective for him, given his performance, and… she had to acknowledge that he had undoubtedly saved her from burning in a hell of flames again. She was most certainly tired of it. And that knight, for some unknown reason, had insisted on helping her even though he probably could've crossed the bridge on his own. He ignored her constant refusal and bitterness, and Blade still couldn’t understand why. 

She silently watched him going towards the balcony and followed suit, flinching at the sight of a few Hollows groaning against the walls. However, they didn’t seem hostile, and the knight went past them without paying any attention to them, going towards a ruined statue devoured by moss and grass. She shouldn’t be peering at that place, she shouldn’t be stopping when she finally had a way to continue.

Blade stayed half-hidden at a safe distance, watching as the knight put his shield aside and kneeled down in front of the statue, offering a small luminous object. The solemnity of the moment was quite evident. No doubt there were too many things that still eluded her, and perhaps it was for the best; maybe she should keep her mind focused on the only purpose she had in her empty reality and stick to her own business. 

Solaire sighed, rising up and stepping away from the statue once his rituals were over, ignoring the pain of his injuries, which even Estus could not erase from the memory of his body.

“I'm guessing you'll follow your own path now,” he stated.

“Uhm... Yes. Of course. I should get to that Parish as soon as possible and look for the bell.”

It didn't sound as motivated as she wanted, which would've irritated her if she wasn't tired as she was. It wasn't precisely physical fatigue, although she could feel it taking a toll as well, but the cold apathy of the Curse returning to her in circles when she least expected it, even through her restored Humanity. The knight came downstairs, the chainmail of his armour tinkling and his incomprehensibly warm gaze fixed on her from the shadows inside the helmet. He stopped, with that confident and energetic pose that seemed to reflect that he could face the whole world with his unabated determination, his chest proud and his fists closed. As if crossing a bridge and confronting a drake moments ago hadn't made the slightest dent in his person.

Blade raised an eyebrow, not knowing if this was arrogance, pride or dignity, but ashamed of her own stance in comparison and feeling stunned under his glare.

“There are other travellers who need help. We are amidst strange beings in a strange land. The flow of time itself is convoluted, with heroes centuries old phasing in and out. The very fabric wavers and relations shift and obscure,” the knight said, again showing her the strange white stone. “There's no telling how much longer your world and mine will remain in contact. But I offer this again, to summon one another as spirits, cross the gaps between the worlds, and engage in jolly co-operation!”

Blade had to admit that somewhere deep and dark within herself, she was ashamed that this man even considered the possibility of them being comrades. She wondered how that man could bear the Curse with such cheerfulness and stand everyone else's dark personalities. Why wasn't he crazy like the others, in the most unpredictable and dangerous sense of the word? He wasn't crazy like those who sank into despair, like those who killed without thinking, the ones who fell into covetousness or those who barely wanted to exchange words with anyone else. No, she was now almost certain that it was a curiously beneficial madness instead. And she wasn't crazy yet, but she was, without a doubt, selfish and unpleasant.

She reached out and took the stone, uncomfortable with the fleeting contact with the man's hand, even though her leather glove was on the way. His warmness reminded her of what it was to be truly human, what it had been, and she suspected that contact only made it worse. It made her remember things from the past, things she didn't even recognize and made her anxious. The Darksign twisted everything, and she preferred not to acknowledge how much and how deeply. All she had to keep in mind was that this knight was apparently willing to ignore her acrimony and pride to assist her. That was something already, whether she wanted it or not.

“Very well,” Blade finally relented, putting the soapstone in a small bag on her belt. “So... are there more people who have this thing? Could they drag me to different worlds?”

The idea struck her as profoundly disturbing. She didn't even understand what the concept of having other worlds meant or if it was just a way of speaking.

“Of course, we are not the only ones engaged in this,” Solaire replied, turning slightly and gesturing toward the statue. “But I am a warrior of the sun! Spot my summon signature easily by its brilliant aura. If you miss it, you must be blind!” he added in a teasing tone that didn't sound hurtful at all. Laughing, Solaire walked past her and picked up a half-charred bone from the fire, using it as a quill to write on the ground. “Come closer; I will teach you how to use it. Remember these symbols and inscribe them with the soapstone when you are ready to lend your help.”

She raised her eyebrows, sighing slightly, but conceded nonetheless, glancing at the seven runes the knight drew on the stone. She wasn't especially eager to use them but refrained from saying so, trying not to be any more sourish than necessary with the man; it didn't seem fair after what he had done for her.

Keeping silent, she nodded at Solaire's words when he asked if she understood and just glanced at him as he went back near the statue. She heard him sigh in wonder, looking up at the sky, at the sun.

“The sun is a wondrous body. Like a magnificent father! If only I could be so grossly incandescent!” he proclaimed, dedicating himself to the complete admiration of the sun, as if it were a complex illustration, full of details and in need of appreciation.

Blade left him there, willing herself to finally continue her path. Yes, he was crazy. Unquestionably crazy. Crazy in a harmless kind of way. It seemed that the only bad thing that could possibly come out of that madness of his was that he would most likely end up going blind from looking directly at the sun and that he was undoubtedly annoying.

As far as she was concerned, he could do whatever he wanted as long as he stayed out of her way and proved to be somewhat helpful if she was in extreme need.

Chapter Text

Blade was well aware that she needed a way to regain her strength, get more souls, and accumulate Humanity, but she still didn't know how to accomplish that. The reality was that she barely earned enough by killing Hollows, which required focus and considerable effort. She found it compelling and frustrating in equal measure, having run into some swift and cunning knights of Balder, whom she recognised even in their grimy, rusty red-cloaked armour. It was unclear why she recognised them at all, just as the astorans and everything else, or why she knew about their swift fighting style with the rapier, straight sword and crossbow. She just knew it. Her best guess was that she must have fought them before on some battlefield lost in her hazy memory, and her body had not forgotten those opponents who had come from faraway realms to Lordran.

Or maybe not; she had absolutely no clue.

However, Blade couldn't avoid an embarrassing counterattack that ended up with a rapier sinking into her ribs right before she plunged her greatsword into the chest of a Hollow Balder knight. Fortunately for her, it happened on a lonely collonaded walk, and the knight didn't seem aware of her rusty combat arts or of anything else other than its murderous rage, for that matter. The place was infested with drooling Hollows that no longer knew where they were or who they were, any shred of sanity and recognition long ago lost to nothingness. Whether they once were proud knights or lowly servants, they were all now reduced to the same humiliating and treacherous monsters.

Something she had never seen and had not expected to see was a fully-armoured giant boar before the patios leading up to the Parish, and to her dismay, it also was Hollow. If a Hollow human was dangerous, an armour-clad boar was utterly disastrous. She wanted to forget as soon as possible how the red-eyed beast had charged between hordes of Hollows, how she had had to trick him and attack through the only unprotected gap in his impenetrable armour. Right in the creature's buttocks. She grimaced at the memory.

After that crude fight, she was now finally standing at the very doors of the ancient structure of the Parish, and it was impossible to ignore the decadent place filled with pews directed towards an altar with a balled-up corpse. It was also hard to miss a Berenike knight's massive, black-armoured figure next to the corpse. Blade knew that she had to be extremely careful with such an opponent. A distant memory hysterically warned her of the apparent danger, even more so when the knight had gone completely Hollow and was locked in a place filled with the wail of more Hollows that she could not locate and would take any opportunity to strike.

She scrutinised the knight from the outside; it held an immense shield and a mace capable of crushing her ribcage like fine twigs. Blade decided that she was in no hurry to discover the degree of savagery of the decrepit wall of steel. Just hearing its heavy, metallic breathing had her hair standing on end.

Indeed, it was sad that so many warriors from so many different lands ended up in such a miserable way. She didn't even remember what land she had come from, being barely able to peek through the mists of her own sanity, but she was absolutely sure that she didn't want to join those who had lost the battle against the Curse and join their mindless ranks.

She could sense a bonfire nearby, beckoning like a light to a foolish moth, so she hurried away from the Berenike knight.

Her feet carried her over the narrow stone bridge that crossed over the mass of trees on the lower grounds, grimly wondering if all pilgrims weren't just that, wretched moths destined to burn in flames. Darkness wasn't in the least inviting to her; it was cold and empty, threatening, but the Flame wasn't so much better either. She saw in both forces a particular reflection of Humanity, of who she was, and if she took them apart, both forces of nature made her equally uneasy, always fearing that they intended to consume them and leave only their bones behind.

Blade knew that she had far more chances than others for some reason. Still, the bitterness, reluctance and desperation were undeniable signs that she was quickly losing her sanity, just like the others, approaching her final demise. But not the one she wanted, but the one that would leave her as the sad shell of an aggressive human body, one in which she would fade away, huddled in a corner to slowly rot until something alive moved in her vicinity. It would irrevocably happen if she didn't gather up her strength and died again.

For now, cornered as she was, the flames from the bonfire near the bridge were a soothing comfort. She tried to relax, breathed deeply and concentrated on her much necessary rest.

A faint sound rattled her memory.

Metal against metal, one blow after another, following a well-known rhythm.

Everything fell apart, like wax dolls melting before her eyes; everything she managed to pry from the dark corners of her memory broke down. She wasn't sure if she was sleeping, if it could be called sleep at all, or if what she experienced could be called dreams.

She was crouching in the dark, looking at things that seemed distantly familiar. Her light armour was familiar; her sword and shield were familiar. Around her, known soldiers marched on. Her companions. They weren't knights of any sort. They had no honour and never had, but they marched on at her side anyway, and she trusted them. They were going to battle.

No, not exactly a battle, something different. A hunt, an unclean one. But they had been generously paid, and they would do what had to be done.

She stirred as everything began to unravel, as she lost touch with her memories, unsettled by the clanking, the pounding, the metal, the cries, the blood...

Blade grunted under her breath, stretching and cracking several bones, running a hand over her face and relishing in the feeling of the smooth, warm skin. A sense of calmness washed over her, making it easier to let go of the vague memories in her dreams.

She had fallen asleep by the bonfire.

It seemed like a cruel joke having to suffer from visions and dreams she couldn't interpret yet felt so deeply. They plagued her mind whenever she tried to get some rest, they meant nothing to her, but they were relentless. Maybe they were mere reflections of her life; maybe they were just figments of her imagination. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wanted them gone once and for all.

Sitting there, Blade looked towards a narrow bridge flanked by trees growing far below, leading out of the building, one she had little to no interest in crossing at the moment. She was torn between shallow idleness and uneasiness, distracted at the sound of pounding metal coming from somewhere downstairs, pondering about it for a while and deciding it reminded too much of a forge and too little of any kind of fighting activity. It was a rhythmic, methodic sound, it had a clear purpose, and she wondered how she had missed it upon entering the building. Perhaps that sound was the culprit of her particularly strange dreams, awakening something in her.

Sighing, she adjusted her shield on one arm and the sword on the other, uncomfortable with their weight.

Trying not to give herself away, she carefully went downstairs, sticking to the wooden railing, standing wide-eyed at the sight of tools, weapons, shields and pieces of armour scattered around a small chamber. A stocky man with long white hair and a beard sat in one corner, behind an anvil, frowning at the sword he was working on with his hammer.

A blacksmith, Blade thought with felt a mixture of relief and bewilderment.

“Are you going to stand there much longer, young woman?” the blacksmith asked without so much as raising his head from his work. Blade flinched, conceding there was no point in continuing to pretend she was hiding. Instead, she went down the remaining stairs and slowly approached the blacksmith, realising she couldn't remember a time when someone had referred to her as young. “You must be a new arrival. Here, come closer. I'm Andre of Astora, and as you may have guessed, I'm a blacksmith. Who are you?”

“Blade,” she answered, scrutinising the weapons, shields, and pieces of armour absentmindedly.

She couldn't help but be drawn to such a display of well-crafted metal, and the blacksmith let out a hearty laugh.

“Blade? A fine name to introduce yourself to a blacksmith,” Andre said, pausing his work to take a good look at her, pleased by her interest. “If you require smithing, I'm at your disposal.”

Blade looked at him, glancing over the burn marks on his skin, his intimidating muscles, and his dark, wise eyes scrutinising her. She wondered about the conspicuous number of astorans who had ended up in Lordran, but this one, in particular, showed no sign of madness, and he could always welcome the presence of a sane blacksmith.

“Thank you. That's some impressive work,” Blade praised, noticing several excellent-looking pieces. “Forgive my boldness, but this place doesn't seem like the best place for a smithy... I mean, I found you by mere chance because I was resting at a bonfire upstairs, between some broken stone benches in an old chapel. I don't want to presume that I know the first thing about business, but...”

She was left speechless when she heard a loud bang coming from the area beyond the smithy room, of which she could only glimpse the cracked stone floor and several broken columns. The blacksmith gave a low chuckle between his teeth.

“This old church might not be as relevant as the Parish, but I consider that's a good thing. Running into any Hollows here is quite unlikely, so it's an adequate place to cover your back and work in relative peace,” he explained, returning to his work. “It's actually not that bad of a place to do business. Two paths lead from here into two relevant areas for pilgrims; Sen's Fortress, if you head out through the bridge next to the bonfire above, and Darkroot Garden, whose path is tightly guarded by that titanite demon that just pounded at the walls. Sadly, I have to say I've had no chance at decent conversation or trade with any travellers for a while. I sincerely hope you're not considering risking losing your mind or going Hollow. We're all Undead, but keep your feet on the ground.”

Blade nodded, swallowing hard.

“I try to evade that fate, but it seems like an unavoidable ending in the long run,” she finally confessed, sensing a warm understanding in the rough blacksmith's eyes.

“Having your weapons and armour in good condition will certainly help,” Andre said, reaching for her and looking at the huge sword stolen from the Black Knight. She handed it over without hesitance. “I'll take a look at everything for a reasonable price, although I don't think we have materials to upgrade such weapons. Are you comfortable with this gear? It wasn't meant for a human.”

“Not really”, she confessed, shrugging. “But it's better than the old scimitar I was carrying and the rusty swords around the burg.”

“I think I have a fine bastard sword you might like around here somewhere and a decent armour from a long-dead wandering knight. Not the fanciest equipment, but durable, trustworthy and fit for a human.”

“I don't think I have enough souls to spare for that,” Blade sheepishly noted.

“No matter, we can arrange something. For now, let's get to work.”

Blade was soon left impressed with the old blacksmith's abilities. He spent most of the time he worked on her things, talking about all kinds of technicalities concerning weapons and armour, smithing and titanite, of which Blade barely understood anything. Still, she allowed him to speak for as long as he wanted, enjoying his enthusiasm, gruff voice, and clear mind.

“I'll ask you for a favour, and I'll give you some advice and new equipment in return. I'll also buy these items from you and make something useful for other customers instead of taking your souls,” Andre announced. “This is my advice: don't take either one of the two routes leading out from here yet. And the favour: take this to the knight standing at the gates of the Fortress, following the bridge. I'm pretty sure he'll still be there; the gates are closed,” he added, handing her a small round spiked shield.

Blade nodded, grabbing the shield after giving the blacksmith a grateful look. She tried to remain considerate, aware that even if it wasn't what mainly characterised her in recent times, it was in her best interest at the moment.

“I'll not forget your help,” she assured him.

“You be careful now. I don't want to see you go Hollow,” was Andre's response, returning to his work.

She went upstairs, looking towards the stone bridge, turning away from the sound of Andre's metal tinkling and focusing on the narrow passage surrounded by thick vegetation. The Fortress stood at the end like a looming monster of solid stone, silent, menacing. Blade inhaled the stagnant air, recognising an unmistakably intense stench of blood as soon as she went closer. She wrinkled her nose, wondering what horrors lay trapped in there. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the portcullis was securely locked, so even if she'd wanted to get in and were foolish enough to ignore Andre's warnings, she wouldn't have a chance to find out what was between those menacing walls of brownish stone. And she wasn't the only one.

Sitting on a step with his head hanging low sat the most picturesque knight she had seen up to that moment. Or, at least, on the same level as the knight Solaire. Blade couldn't clearly remember ever seen armour like the one the knight was wearing, with round, bulky pieces making him look like a metallic onion.

He didn't seem to notice her, absorbed in his own thoughts, muttering to himself, so Blade waited for a few seconds. Finally, tired of his absentmindedness, Blade loudly cleared her throat to call for his attention. The knight looked up, watching her through the eye-slit in his domed helmet.

“Mmm...mmm... Mm! Oh-hoh! Forgive me. I was absorbed in thought. I am Siegmeyer of Catarina. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to? Or, rather, who has the pleasure of having found me?” he asked, chuckling.

“You can call me Blade,” she answered, raising an eyebrow. Knights... she thought. She held out his shield. “This is from Andre.”

“The blacksmith? Oh... Well, thank you!” the knight gratefully replied, taking his shield.

There was a strange silence for a few seconds.

“And… Uhm… What are you doing here... just sitting?” she asked, clearing her throat.

There didn't seem to be much of a point in sitting there doing nothing if the gate was closed.

“Quite honestly, I have run flat up against a wall. Or, a gate, I should say. The thing just won't budge,” the onion knight explained, pointing to the gate. “No matter how long I wait. And, oh, have I waited! So, here I sit, in quite a pickle. Weighing my options, so to speak!”

Then he laughed, the sound echoing inside the helmet. Blade opened her mouth to say something but decided against it, fearing it was just another pilgrim who had lost his marbles. It certainly was tempting trying to explain that you couldn't just expect a giant metal portcullis to raise on its own, but instead, she nodded and took a couple of steps back.

“Good luck,” she said, walking across the bridge and hearing the uh-hum coming in response from the onion knight.

She needed to head for the bell and stop talking to every lunatic in her way, and above all, she needed to stop taking them seriously. The Curse had to be a joke to drive humanity mad and make a mockery out of it, plunging it into a pit of resentment, despair, nonsense, and frustration. She didn't even have the patience to stop and understand the ruins of her own kind anymore. It had to be easier to just despise them or ignore them; the onion knight, the sunlight knight, the crestfallen soldier, the scowling cleric and every other wretch on her path. She had to believe that isolating herself from them was just as necessary as it was to detach herself from the Hollows. Sadly, the horrible voice whispering such things grew increasingly weak and confused.

She would never admit it out loud, but she needed that voice and bitterness not just to feel better about herself but to forget that she didn't really hate them all, that she craved for their conversations and interactions to be just like before the Curse. And that seemed no longer possible. What she wanted was plain, hard sanity, like Andre's, a mimicry of normalcy that the majority couldn't offer after their personal pain.

Chapter Text

True to his word, Andre presented Blade with a magnificent bastard sword, a caduceus kite shield, and a set of armour upon her return. She did pay for the shield, as it was as effective as the rest of her new items, and Andre rightly deserved some payment for his services. She was pretty sure it was the first time she'd ever worn knightly gear, but getting used to it took her far less than she'd imagined. The strangest part was seeing herself in those garments, wearing a close helmet and a cuirass and pauldrons instead of the usual ragged travelling clothes, but she was aware that it was purely practical and had nothing to do with looks or vocation. It still seemed quite bizarre.

Her new bastard sword soon proved the importance of wielding weapons according to her capabilities, allowing her thrusts and cuts she wouldn't have been able to perform before. Faster and stronger, Blade's way through the Parish's grounds wasn't halted by any enemies until she came face to face with the overwhelming Berenike Hollowed knight. They exchanged several decent blows, but it didn't take long for her to feel the wrath of such a powerful opponent in her bones, new armour or not. Nevertheless, she defeated the knight after a first failed attempt in which she ended up with her chest crushed against the tile floor, admitting she might've suffered the same fate several more times with her old gear.

Blade took a deep breath, trying to ignore the searing pain spreading from her hip to her chest, where she had previously taken the direct impact of the knight's mace. She took a short sip from her flask of Estus, dismissing its concentrated taste burning down her throat, and headed off to cleanse the entire upper floor of the Parish after taking the peculiar soul that had lain resting upon a corpse behind the knight. It wasn't exactly like the others, so she didn't dare to fully assimilate it, letting it travel with her instead as a precaution.

Blade showed no weakness or mercy against any of the Hollows that went rushing at her, spurred on by a Channeler; she used a narrow spot on the corridor to control the situation, finishing off their miserable existence by slashing with her sword left and right. There was something disgustingly familiar about it, but she didn't know exactly what. Maybe it was the chilling screams, the stench or the reddish eyes looking back at her, bringing back faded memories of burning bodies and piles of corpses plaguing the streets. Something told her she'd already seen that same thing numerous times before her confinement in the Asylum. Way too many.

Suddenly disgusted by the very thing she thought she enjoyed doing, Blade pushed back the need to retch on the carcass-covered floor and tried to focus on her task, scared by her own bodily reaction after being numb for so long. She had to get a grip and push away everything to keep going, including her own absurd perceptions of discomfort.

She swallowed hard, tasting bile, and kept walking, breathing in and out. Then, with the abnormal sensation that everything around her was moving in circles, she leaned on an arched window to get some outside air. What was wrong with her?

Stubbornly, she subdued her own feelings and kept walking around the upper part of the Parish, reaching a secluded section where she ran into yet another knight, one significantly different from those she had already met. This pulled her out of her inner demons for good, giving her something else to focus on.

This has to be a joke. Not another one, please, she thought with a mixture of tiredness and grim hilarity.

The first sign that there was something different about this knight, however, was that he was indolently sitting behind a solid barred door. Despite this, he looked very relaxed, giving a strange-looking scene with his well-cared-for golden armour depicting two arms hugging his torso sitting in a dingy cell. The second one was his cold and caressing voice, his quiet demeanour conveying little concern for his situation but rather customary boredom.

“Oh? Still human, are you?” the knight asked. Blade slowly nodded in silent reply. “Then I am in luck. Could you help me? As you can see, I am stuck, without recourse.” The knight seemed to perceive Blade's watchful and silent posture as a sign that she wasn't quite ready to agree to his proposal. “Please, I have duties to perform, and I will reward you handsomely. I'm sure you understand the benefit.”

Blade shifted her weight from foot to foot. She didn't have a key to open the door, but it wasn't such a terrible inconvenience in itself. What could be, though, was letting a stranger free without knowing if he was a danger or not. So far, none of those she had encountered on her Pilgrimage had posed a threat as long as they were still aware of themselves, but she wasn't planning to cease being cautious around strangers any time soon, sane or not.

“Who locked you up?” Blade asked.

She wasn't expecting unbridled sincerity but still hoped she could catch even a glimpse of anything suspicious through the most basic questions. It was worth trying, anyway.

“The Channeler roaming these halls. I guess he meant to do something distasteful with me, so I insist on getting out of here.”

“I killed him, so don't worry about that,” she clarified. She decided it really wouldn't be a big deal to let him go. She didn't really care, and as long as she was concerned, they might not even meet in the future ever again. The thought of leaving a sane human to rot on a well-closed cell while having the chance to let him free disturbed her, reminding her of the Asylum and what would've happened if Oscar hadn't taken the time to help her even if she wasn't particularly charming. “Give me a minute.”

Bladed used her shield to slam the lock full-force with a downward strike. Meanwhile, the knight watched her silently, rising to his feet. She unloaded another blow, and another, finally breaking the rusted lock. The golden knight ultimately pushed the door open from the inside, and she stepped aside to let him pass down the narrow stairs.

“Remarkably delicate. Well, thank you from the bottom of my heart,” the man said, stretching his limbs. “I am Sir Lautrec of Carim. I guarantee you will have your reward later, but it will have to wait. Now I have to get back to work.”

As he left, the knight laughed, and Blade stood there with the feeling that perhaps she had acted unwisely by simply letting him out. Another part of her reiterated that he was probably just an oddball like the rest of them, even though particularly disturbing, but not a real threat to her. She went back to the stairs leading up the highest zone of the Parish without so much as a glimpse of Lautrec, resolving to forget about him for now. She snorted, considering how one by one, all the knights who hadn't gone Hollow seemed to find a way to spring on her trail like mushrooms.

Blade soon found some rusty metal stairs going up; she hung her shield on her back, sheathed her sword, and began her ascent with the added weight of her new armour reminding her that she might actually not be as comfortable as she thought at first.

It made sense for the Bell to be at the highest point, and fortunately, nothing stood in her way up. However, at the top, when she was getting ready to pass through the small arch leading to the roof, her eyes fell on a bright sign shinning on the ground, wrapped in a warm golden glow. Raising her eyebrows, Blade recognised what could probably be Solaire's summoning sign, remembering his irritatingly humorous words describing it. Of course, she didn't know what it was doing so close to her destination instead of being in one of the critically dangerous areas before, but she had no intentions of finding out.

Blade stepped over the summoning sign and pointedly ignored the vibration it provoked at her feet. Yes, she must've been blind not to see it; it only lacked flames and maybe some heavenly choirs calling out to people around it to make it even more obnoxiously gaudy. She shielded her eyes from the sun, staring at the formidable Bell within the tower surrounded by gargoyles and feeling some trepidation at the sight of her objective. Who would’ve told her? She hadn't even had expectations for her pointless journey, and there she was, mildly proud of achieving her first goal when so many others went Hollow along the way.

Blade took a deep breath to ease her feelings and prepared to finish her task, but a heavy sensation stopped her dead in her tracks. A strange, spontaneous warning buzzed in her stomach.

If nothing was standing in her way, why the summoning sign? It was pretty clear that the Sunlight Knight was crazy, but he didn't look like the kind of man who would give false signals, offering help at an empty spot.

Letting out an annoyed growl, Blade headed back, examining the place in silence for a few more seconds before finally reaching out and brushing the sign. Immediately after, she felt the same strange sensation of raw energy coursing through her whole body, intensifying.

She stepped back and rested her bastard sword on her pauldron, waiting with her head cocked. What if it didn't work? Perhaps she really shouldn't have turned back and touched the sign. That Sunlight Warrior could be helping other people, anyway. She just had to cross the roof and move on; that was it. Plus, summoning him would give him more reasons to keep buzzing around her like a living nightmare, letting him assume that she constantly required his help.

Her eyes widened in surprise as a golden figure started rising from the spot on the ground where the sign had been moments before, halting her runaway reflections. It was none other than Solaire, bathed in a brilliant golden halo, emerging while making a gesture that she mistook for a possible need to stretch himself. The man looked up with both arms raised, standing at the tip of his toes, concluding what she guessed was an extravagant salutation. When he finished, he stood before her with his sword firmly clutched in one hand and his shield in the other.

Blade didn't know for sure if it was indeed him or some kind of magic trick that allowed him to be there while he was actually somewhere else.

She listened to his ghostly breathing, heavy and resonant, like everything around him. Solaire's golden ghostly figure didn't seem to harbour any concerns about the situation, though; he gave her a slight nod and turned his helmeted head toward the roof, exactly as he did when he determinedly gazed towards the dragon in the bridge.

Blade didn't move a muscle.

“This is... unusual. Is that really you?” she mumbled.

The knight nodded again, probably comprehending her mistrust, and extended the arm carrying the heavy round shield towards her. Blade frowned and stepped back at first, fearing that he might have finally settled not to be so friendly. Still, when he insisted with a calm disposition, she finally relented and stretched out her shield arm until they collided with a distorted metallic sound. It was corporeal in its strange way, but it wasn't the same as doing it with actual shields. Frowning inside her helmet, Blade withdrew her shield.

“What's wrong, can't you speak?” she asked, uncomfortable with his mutism. “Last time you couldn't stop talking. I presumed you would go blind from looking at the sun, not mute.”

The knight seemed to laugh, though the sound was distant, like some eerie echo. Then, he cocked his head, as if intently scrutinising her. Without a clue as to what else to say, Blade swallowed hard and pointed to the roof. The sooner they ended up whatever had to be done, the better; this new experience was creeping her out.

Walking side by side, they went across the roof.

Absently gazing up the sky, filled with silky clouds of soft grey, brimming gold and light tones, Blade noticed they could glimpse the entire Undead Burg from that point. But, distracted as she was, she didn't realise they weren't alone until small pebbles began to fall on them. A stony growl pierced through her ears, and the sounds of crunching rock drew her gaze upwards as one of the gargoyles perched overhead sprung to life, stretching and flinging chunks of its body with each movement. The beast unfurled its wings, clutching a halberd in its clawed hands, and dove down at them.

Blade raised her shield and readied her sword.

The creature descended, trying to crush and cut them with its halberd and axe-tipped tail. Blade rolled and shielded the blow directed towards her, listening as Solaire did the same on the opposite side. She dodged the tail a couple of times, at the risk of ending up with that axe stuck in her chest, while Solaire avoided the blows of the enormous halberd and kept most of their enemy’s attention.

The entire roof trembled, tiles popping out with each blow from the beast, which furiously growled and fluttered to change positions and instigate more powerful hits. Blade took advantage of one of those moments to reach its flank, sinking the sword into the hard skin. To her surprise, she managed to cleave the hide; the creature screeched in pain, lashing out at her with one paw while she was still trying to get her weapon unjammed.

Skidding on the tiles, Blade huffed and puffed inside her helmet, feeling suffocated by the metal encapsulating her head. Finally, she regained her balance and watched as the Knight Solaire managed to stick his one-handed sword into the beast's head, which howled in pain, jerking and landing several blows on the knight with its halberd. It almost knocked the man off the side of the roof.

Blade slashed downwards with all her might, howling with the effort and severing the entire tail as the beast leapt in the air, bellowing in anguish and spraying the whole roof with blood gushing from its enormous stump.

She stopped for a moment, panting, but her victory was short-lived.

Another gargoyle fell from the tower, scrawny but unmistakably furious, breathing fire and coming to its mate's aid.

Solaire covered himself with his shield, and Blade followed suit, somewhat grateful that these beasts didn't have nearly the same firepower as the dragon. Still, she abhorred conflagration and wasn't planning on letting death take her in such a way any time soon if she could help it. She gritted her teeth as Solaire started casting miracles at the beasts. Two lightning spears blazed through the air, reaching their targets and offering Blade and Solaire a few seconds to get their bearings and attack. Blade ran towards the weaker gargoyle without a second thought; she leapt up and slashed upwards as the beast flew over her, severing its leg and gutting it with the same slash. The gargoyle crashed onto the roof, and Solaire took the chance to nimbly jump over it, using the creature's dying body to have the high ground and dart towards the other. He managed to dodge the flames and struck the other gargoyle's neck with a mighty blow.

Blade moved closer to finish off the gargoyle she had gutted, side-eyeing the knight. She saw how he harshly cut the fire-breathing gargoyle's neck off once and for all without a doubt, severing it with surprising ease for someone wielding a relatively short sword. She took a deep breath and focused on her gargoyle; it was seriously injured, flailing like an injured moth. With no desire to extend its suffering, she pierced its head with her bastard sword, ending her agony.

Both gargoyles liquefied into a sea of souls, like faded stars, enveloping them and allowing them to absorb their strength. Bodies like those of the gargoyles were reduced to little more than vessels for the souls, while humans fighting against Hollowing were the new receivers. Souls washed over her, filling her with renewed strength and making each struggle worth it just to feel their envigorating force igniting her flesh and clearing her mind.

Blade looked up at Solaire's golden phantom, who approached her with his sword now sheathed. She couldn't deny her own bright mood, her changed disposition after being showered in souls and having won such a fight, aware that they'd worked surprisingly well as a team once again.

“I didn't expect them to spit fire, that’s just ridiculous. It seems we’re bound to expect flames whenever we fight together,” she said, resting her sword on her pauldron and trying to control her adrenaline-ridden voice.

Solaire nodded and presumably said something indecipherable, something that just chimed in like faded otherworldly sounds, or perhaps he was just laughing. Then, he briefly bowed in farewell and faded into nothingness before her eyes.

Blade stood there for a while, wondering what had happened until she grimly decided there was no point in worrying when the knight hadn't seemed phased at all while disappearing.

There's absolutely no point in being concerned about that knight, she told herself, squaring her shoulders and heading off towards the tower at the end of the roof. He could take care of himself, and it was none of her business. Now her destination was right in front of her; that's all that mattered.

Blade climbed up to the top using more rusty stairs, sighing as she finally found the Bell and its old bronze lever. So she had finally made it. Views were outstanding from that tower, and Lordran seemed strangely peaceful and captivating, unlike the hellhole she had been experiencing from up close. Without the need to hurry up, she leaned against the stone railing, took off her helmet and closed her eyes, allowing the gentle breeze to dry off her sweaty hair and the sun to warm her skin. She could swear she heard the ringing of a distant bell somewhere, like the echoes coming from Solaire's phantom, maybe from another world. What a strange land filled with peculiar people and perils, she mulled, yet for some reason, she felt better than she had ever expected, far from the fragile and defeated husk that rotted inside the Asylum.

She pulled the lever of the Bell, deafened by its clanging as it spread throughout the old burg, against the walls and buildings, like a mighty roar. So, she had finally rung the Bell of Awakening. Well, at least one of them.

Blade put her helmet back on, stretching out her arms and thinking of taking a well-deserved break at the nearest bonfire. She didn't know what else awaited her, but she'd managed so far to make her way through blood and fire, fighting through the deadly, decadent and gloomy land of the ancient Gods, and she wasn't ready to give up any time soon.

Slashing through the air with a flourish and leaping with her sword, Blade recreated her mighty blow.

“I knocked it down just like this!” she clamoured, running and feigning to jump and attack something above her. “And then the knight jumped on the one I'd just wounded and plunged his sword into the other fire-breathing beast flying around! I stabbed one in the head, and that was it. We won, none of us wounded,” Blade gushed, panting as the blacksmith watched her with a cheerful half-smile.

She stood still, aware of Andre's expression, who laughed, puffing out his chest and slightly shaking his head as if he was in front of an excited child. He had asked her to describe the combat at the top of the roof, but he definitely hadn't expected such passion coming from her when she'd initially been so reluctantly aloof. Blade couldn't help but feel embarrassed when she realised that perhaps she had gotten carried away, clearing her throat and blushing with a dignified posture.

“An exciting confrontation. It seems that you are very capable, and that knight knows what he's doing. One would say that you even admire him,” the old blacksmith ventured, looking at her with a scathing gleam in his dark eyes, half-hidden by thick white eyebrows.

Blade stiffened, her expression twisting a bit into a frown.

“What…? No! Admire him? That's ridiculous! He's absolutely deranged. He's… well, he knows how to fight for sure, but that's all! He's still the most aggravating knight I've stumbled upon in Lordran, and that's saying something, believe me. I can't stand his stupidly cheerful attitude, as if this is all some great quest,” she mumbled, annoyed by Andre's silent gaze.

“Hmm,” Andre muttered, absently picking up some titanite pieces from among his tools. “I've heard of the Sunlight Warriors before, but I didn't think there were any more of them left. It would be wise of you to value that knight's skills and willingness as your ally, more so if his madness doesn't prevent him from being helpful.”

Blade had to agree on that, despite herself. So, she nodded, acknowledging that it could be a benefit in the future, as it already was.

“I suppose,” she said, pointing her finger at the blacksmith. “But I do not admire him. He's just an irritating, foolish and absurd individual that can benefit me.”

Andre laughed again, handing her over a heavy package of titanite parts rolled up in a cloth bundle.

“Whatever you say, young woman. Now take this, and thank you for your souls. You should be more careful with your gear; I want you to properly reinforce and repair it with the tools I've given you,” he said, hurt by the state of Blade's armour, full of dents, cuts, blood and broken areas. “Your path will now likely take you to fouler places. You can't let your guard down.”

“I won't. Thanks for everything; I'll try to be careful.”

“Hmm. I hope to see you soon. Don't you go Hollow.”

Lost in her thoughts, Blade headed to the bonfire. She had little idea of where to go next. Still, Andre had briefly mentioned an entrance through the lower areas of the Undead Burg leading to a festering place growing at the very base of Lordran's exterior walls. That place seemed to be a sick village full of wretches, growing like a festering pustule, and at the very bottom of that hellhole, another Bell waited in silence. It wasn't exactly something she wanted to rush into, but she had no choice if she wanted to continue the Pilgrimage.

Chapter Text

Blade shuddered at the unpleasant sounds coming out of the Hollows hidden beyond her sight. She marched on through the darkness, shield raised and sword at the ready into the deepest, darkest reaches of the Undead Burg. The decay impregnating the very bones of this new area was as putrid as the one rotting the Undead themselves. Everything was bursting with moss, dirt and fluids of unknown origin; it reeked, and one could feel utterly revolted just by looking at it.

She swallowed hard, trying to stay silent as she went through the shady streets, dodging piles of burning corpses and getting increasingly nauseated with the smell of roasting flesh. The horrible howls of undead dogs still echoed across her mind. The memory of the foul stench of their spilt guts made her want to retch, and she was forced to lean against the nearest wall of a cramped and gloomy building to keep herself steady. It seemed that she was still way too susceptible, but had no idea as to why. It was infuriating.

Letting one's guard down always had consequences, however, and the immediate result in that occasion was to end up with a hooded Hollow perched on her shoulders and a knife cutting through her neck, skillfully slicing between the gorget and the breastplate. Choking in her own blood, Blade dropped down her shield and struggled to take her enemy off her, clutching the scrawny arm that was grabbing her head and fighting off a group of red-eyed Hollow assassins. Finally, she pulled her attacker away and killed them all with a look full of rage, falling to her knees at the end and desperately swallowing Estus while the world spun around her.

She laid there for a while, sprawled against an old cart on the pavement, enduring the pain. Then, she heard a faint voice imploring, pleading for help from behind a closed door. Shaking, and mildly irritated at the urgency in that stranger's voice when she was in agonising pain, she stood up and managed to pry the wooden door open, stepping in with a nasty mood. She found a terrified young man in light robes inside, trapped amongst barrels full of corpses he could've easily moved if he wasn't panicking, of all things. She didn't hear much of what he said, other than his name, Griggs, and that he was a student from Vinheim. Of course. It had to be a stupid mage, the only thing even stupider than knights; pampered and delicate scholars roaming a brutal world. Out of pity, she pointed him out to the Sanctuary and kept on through the dark alleys.

Blade grimaced when she swallowed and felt the gash in her throat slowly healing, throbbing, her flesh still tender. She laid down in a corner, drinking what was left of her Estus' flask, closing her eyes and trying to think of anything but the pain, so familiar yet so invariably insufferable. 

When she rose up, her legs didn't quiver again; her sword didn't falter. She killed every assassin hiding in the unlit alleys, ignoring the musty stench of smoke and blood, until she was the only one left there. Or so she thought.

Blade stood still as a statue upon seeing the Knight Solaire nearly at the end of the street, leaning against one of the old wooden doors to the side, his shield on the ground. His helmeted head was also lightly leaning against the door, as if he were intently listening, softly speaking to whoever was at the other side. Blade raised an eyebrow inside her helmet, surprised to find him there after their recent ghostly cooperation and wondering what the hell he was doing. Perhaps the foolish man was trying to bargain with a Hollow assassin, or persuade some wretch that they should engage in some jolly cooperation. For some reason, that wild notion totally seemed along the lines of what he would try to do, she thought, laughing to herself.

“I assure you, little one, I am far from scary,” Solaire said, softly laughing. He turned his head towards Blade upon hearing her approaching footsteps, fixing his blue eyes on her from the shadows behind his great helm’s eye-slit. “My friend here will agree; I'm the furthest you can imagine from a scary fellow. We Sunlight Warriors are here to help, not to be feared.”

I'm not your friend, Blade immediately thought, but refrained from saying it out loud when she heard a small voice answering from the other side of the door.

“We're not allowed to open to anyone,” a childish voice stated, though there was a sliver of doubt on its words. “How do we know you are not some nasty demons trying to trick us?”

“That's right! Get out of here. I have a sword!” another emboldened little voice shouted.

“Terrific! You can hit me with it if you are really scared, then,” Solaire replied, and the house's occupants stayed silent. “But if you aren't, you may want to come with me to a better place, a place where you can play without demons and bad people around.”

Blade was too stunned to speak. She hadn't expected to see children anymore, not alive at least. Of course, she was aware that there had to be children's remains burning on the pyres or hidden around the abandoned houses, but she had been lucky not to come across any thus far. Solaire seemed to have extended his duties to those unfortunate, pure souls, always going above and beyond for unwilling humans in need.

“I see you’re deep in negotiations, aren’t you?” Blade humorlessly asked.

Solaire let out a dry chuckle.

“Indeed. They are a tough bunch. We've been here for a while now,” he replied, concern evident in his voice.

Blade immediately understood the source of his unease. There were no guarantees that they would remain in contact in this area; it seemed that there was only certain stability around the Firelink Shrine. The whispering inside the house ceased, and the door finally creaked open, revealing a gloomy, smelly interior with four small figures huddled together, one of them wielding a wooden sword while the others hid behind. Blade swallowed to ease the lump on her throat as she noticed that several of them looked increasingly close to being completely Hollow, their beady eyes glowing red and their skin dry as tree bark.

Solaire stepped back and stood next to Blade, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture, as if greatly respecting the little boy's sword. He was a smart man, knowing full well that he needed to make the little ones feel in control if he wanted them to calm down.

“Are you knights?” a little girl with her blond hair pulled back into a scruffy braid asked.

“He is,” Blade replied, pointing at Solaire. “I'm just a traveller passing through. We're not going to harm you.”

“Will you all come with me?” Solaire asked, lowering his hands and taking a step forward, considering that the kids didn't budge and the oldest one dropped his sword a success.

It seemed the children had decided that the newcomers weren't terribly intimidating, or at least they weren't demons, and that Solaire wasn't threatening at all. Of course, they couldn't know that one's dangerousness couldn't be measured so quickly, but just like Blade, they soon noticed the man's good disposition.

“We can't leave. Our brother Wilbur has the disease and wants to eat us. He can't leave the room. He's with Mom,” the eldest resolutely said. The boy couldn't be more than seven years old, with short brown hair and brave eyes.

Blade felt how the lump in her throat tightened, looking away as she immediately recognised what they meant by "the disease". She should be on her way, she shouldn't get distracted by tragedies that had nothing to do with her, and Solaire seemed perfectly in charge of the situation, but the mere thought of leaving seemed abhorrent. Obviously, the knight wasn't comfortable with the situation either. Yet, Blade felt a twinge of empathy and respect towards him when he heard how he kept his voice steady and amiable, avoiding reflecting any of the misery that surely had to be bottled up inside him.

“I have a plan. You can decide whether you like it or not,” Solaire calmly said, kneeling down before the kids while they stared in silence. “You can go get your things, come outside and wait with my friend here while I get in and help your brother. I... don't know if he will be able to come with us, but if he can't, I'll help him and your mother so they can go to another place where they'll also feel much better and they won't hurt anyone ever again. Then, we can go to a lovely place full of sunshine, play and see a giant bird. No demons are allowed in there, you have my word.”

Solaire looked over his shoulder towards Blade, who nodded in silent agreement. The pain sinking deep in her chest was very different to the one she'd felt before, limping down the streets, and she decided it was infinitely worse. Blade realised that the knight had to be feeling the same way, probably even worse, since he wasn't a cold asshole like her. But, even if that was the case, he seemed set on doing what he had to.

“But I want them to come with us. I want to play with Wilbur,” another one of the boys asked. This one looked around five years old.

“I want to see Mom,” the smallest added, barely three or four years old.

“You're all a bunch of babies! Mom said that we had to be strong, like the grown-ups, and that we had to be careful with the demons. If we go out, they can catch us!” the oldest one said, nervously looking at both sides of the street.

“It’s up to you, my friends. But the demons will eventually get you if you wait here for too long,” Solaire patiently reasoned.

Finally, after a few seconds of pondering, the eldest, the one who seemed to be in charge of his siblings, nodded in nervous agreement. Solaire let out a relieved breath, leaning his head forwards and lowering his gaze. The children went inside the house and began rummaging around, taking their things and putting them in a bag that the older one carried, and they went outside with Blade, just as they'd been told. Even if their initial response had been hesitant, they quickly decided that the knight’s promises sounded far better than being stuck in that house forever, even if that meant getting away from their mother and brother, overcoming fear better than many adults.

“Mom and Wilbur are sleeping in there. Please, be careful with them, sir knight. They can be scary, sometimes, but they're not demons. They're just a little bit sick,” the little girl said, pointing towards a closed door inside the house.

Solaire went in, briefly placing a hand on the top of the little girl's head and leading her out. There was something bleak about him, something jarring and sad that didn't match up to his nature or the external appearance he tried to keep up for the kids.

“Go with the others, sweetie. We'll be leaving right away,” he said, his voice full of forced joviality the girl couldn't notice in her youthful innocence, but managed to slightly move Blade's heart.

The little girl nodded, running away with her siblings without a single concern, as ignorant as the others of what was about to happen. Blade looked away from Solaire, hearing how he unsheathed his sword and slammed the door open with his shoulder. She called for the children to stand back a little farther, staying on guard.

“What's your name, lady?” the smallest boy asked, tugging at one of her armour's skirts.

Blade kept listening to the noises coming from the house, uncomfortably turning her attention from that place to the kids and the streets. Finally, a high-pitched, aggressive scream came from the room, and then several thuds and stifled sounds. Then, silence.

“Blade. You can call me Blade,” she hastily replied, desperate to distract herself as well as the children. “And you?”

“My name is Winfrith, this is my sister Agatha, my older brother Bertric, and he is Alwin,” the little boy introduced, proudly pointing at each one.

“Those are good names. Powerful names.”

The children brimmed with pride.

“Is that a real sword?” the eldest kid, Bertric, asked.

“Yes,” Blade replied, concerned at their interest when they stepped closer to her. “But it's dangerous. It's not a toy.”

“I know,” Bertric said, insulted. “I just wanted to touch it. Just once.”

“Me too!” Agatha instantly snapped.

“Alright then…”

Blade carefully lowered the sword from her shoulder, making sure they didn't get too close to the edge and kept their little hands close to the pommel, guard and hilt, preventing them from trying to swing it around. She looked towards the house's front door, finally seeing Solaire emerging. He didn't look at them and took a moment to pick up his shield from where he'd left it, taking a deep breath before putting his façade back on and going back to meet them.

The children stopped paying attention to the sword and turned expectantly towards the knight. Blade couldn't help but feel deeply sorry for him, not only for what he just had to do but for what he still had to face.

“So, can they come with us, sir?” little Alwin innocently asked.

Solaire shook his head, sighing, but softer than he surely wanted to.

“I'm sorry, they had to go their own way,” he kindly replied, facing the disappointed looks on the kids' countenances with admirable strength. “You all need to get stronger and go to a more suitable place now, just like your mother wanted. I'm going to give you something, okay? It's pretty fun. Here, come on.”

He knelt down before them, and small dancing Humanities began to appear in his outstretched hand, dark and vibrant, surrounded by tiny souls. Getting rid of them didn't seem to affect him in the slightest. He sure had plenty, and he handed them over without hesitation to the children, who grabbed them with endearing fascination.

“Look, it bubbles up in your belly!” Agatha laughed as she absorbed it.

“Winfrith has his old fat face again!” Alwin mocked, pointing at his little brother, who pouted and angrily clenched his fists.

As the children reverted to their adorable human guises, Solaire picked up little Winfrith, now deep in a tantrum, while the others played around.

“Ah... Come on now, no need to cry, kid. Now you're going to take a ride on my shoulders while your brother walks, eh? Isn't that fun?” Solaire said, trying to encourage the little boy. He laughed as he placed the boy on his shoulders, slightly jumping up and down several times and making the kid forget entirely about his tantrum. Little Winfrith giggled, clutching the great helm with one hand and fiddling with the red feather with the other. Solaire looked up at Blade. “Thanks for your assistance,” he said, painfully sincere.

Blade averted her gaze, uncomfortable.

“I haven't done anything…” she dismissed.

“Oh, but you did… Ah!” He struggled to keep his balance as Alwin and Agatha indignantly clung to his arms.

“I want a ride too; I've been good!”

“No, I've been better. Let me up!”

“Such a bunch of babies…” Bertric mumbled.

“Well… One at a time! I only have one set of shoulders, and they already have a rider,” Solaire said, tiredly laughing. “Come on, the further we go, the sooner you can take turns, deal? See you soon, Blade. I'm taking these little warriors to the Firelink Shrine.”

Blade nodded, wanting to say something but staying silent instead. Maybe she wanted to say that she appreciated his dedication to those kids. That she was sorry for letting him face the situation inside the house alone; sending a Hollowed mother and a child to their eternal rest couldn’t be easy. But no words came out; she just stood there, stiff, as she watched him march on with the children entirely focused on him instead of the death-plagued streets. They followed his games and gave him their undivided attention, as if he were their new hero.

She should have gone with him, escorted them, but her feet remained rooted to the ground. She was pretty sure he didn't need her at all, anyway.

She laid a hand on her helmet, feeling miserable. And she frankly had no right to it, being the least affected person in the grim situation they’ve just lived.

Blade went in the opposite direction, back into the depths. No child should have suffered the wrath of the Curse, innocent and unaware of the human or divine nature of things as they were. They only knew that everything had turned into a nightmare, that their families had been broken, and their own bodies had turned against them. The world was now one ordeal after another, testing those left standing. Soon Blade was going to face more of those challenges, those the merchant in the upper parts of the Burg had already previously mentioned. 

With no time to recover from what she had just experienced, the Capra Demon launched itself at her and gave her the same ruthless treatment it had given to the rest of the area's inhabitants. Blade watched the creature's bright red eyes set on the goat skull, how its muscles tightened as it raised two massive curved weapons, and its two hounds leapt at her. Her body reacted; her mind tugged away. Only then could she ignore the despair, forget the fear, the bites, the blows, taking an advantageous position and fight until her last breath to kill this maddened demon, to avenge those it had terrorised and killed in their most vulnerable times.

Blood dripped from her new armour. Hers, and her enemies. Her heavy breathing and the euphoria after the fight blended in with the blows and injuries and the sorrow. She needed to find somewhere safe to fall unconscious. She needed to leave the suburbs of the Burg and survive the assassins prowling around every corner. 

Poor kids. It was beyond belief how they'd managed to hold on for so long in such a place.

Blade kept on going, despite desperately wishing to drop down where she was, dragging her sword and keeping the shield halfway upon her arm, surely fractured from a blow from the demon. One of many wounds. Another one to ignore.

Chapter Text

After wandering around for hours, Blade found the thick wooden door leading to the lowest parts of the Burg and opened it with the key she'd obtained from the Capra Demon. The path ahead was a grim succession of rot and decay, a shadow within a holy city, a place that sank deeper and deeper into corridors and forgotten sectors where nothing remotely sane was left standing. It took her a while to find the right direction to keep descending through the ruins of those humble buildings. And she still wasn't low enough to reach the city's bottom levels.

The gaunt, naked Hollows started thrashing around at her scent, making each step of the way a fight for her life. Repulsed by the stench of putrid dampness, Blade felt as if she'd spent whole days prowling those mould-plagued slums; she was out of Estus and unable to get some rest, with no signs of bonfires nearby. The last time she'd tried to sleep, crouched between some barrels, a group of scrawny-looking Hollows had attempted to set her on fire with their torches. It seemed she wasn't just cursed with the Undeath but with enticing combustion as well.

Exasperated, Blade seriously contemplated running away from the sack-headed butcher with a dog she found on her way down the slums. Feeling utterly revolted, Blade wrinkled her nose at the foul smell of meat hanging around, desperately wishing it wouldn't belong to anything that could've been remotely human. Sadly, she had no choice but to fight the butcher, immediately detected by its hound and stuck in the ruined kitchen. Of course, she could've tried to run away anyway, but she had the personal experience to prove that such a strategy didn't turn out well on most occasions.

Luckily, the butcher seemed hell-bent on killing her by brute strength, swinging its two rusty machetes around and hoping to cut her in half while its dog jumped at her. Blade stood her ground most of the fight despite her exhaustion, although she was thrown flying against the table full of stinking meat and the cadaverous dog bit her leg. She ignored the pain, stood up and pierced through the butcher's chest with her sword, cutting its dog in half and cursing when she leaned against a wall, and every single wound in her body seemed to punish her mistreated nerves. As much as she wanted to keep going, she'd almost reached her limit and was forced to remember the downsides of Humanity. The pain was sharper; it felt much more real, nearly impossible to ignore, something she'd been struggling with for a while now, used to take her dried-up body to the extreme with little to no consequence. Feelings were clearer, intense and sometimes overwhelming, far from the pessimistic numbness induced by the Hollowing process. It seemed everything had its pros and cons, and she had no choice but to deal with it in each different state.

Blade hobbled around and approached the butcher's wooden chest behind the broken-down tables, taking something seemingly valuable from it, something Andre would definitely want to see. An Ember. Bright, warm, dim, and yet hauntingly beautiful, something no Hollow butcher should have stored away.

Blade picked it up in its little receptacle and carefully put it within one of her travelling bags, disturbed by the ominous feeling of holding a splinter of such an ancient piece of the world, of the mighty Flame itself. She felt somehow unworthy; even if she wasn't a murderous Hollow like the butcher, it didn't seem like something she should be carrying around. Andre would know what to do.

Pushing those thoughts to the back of her mind, she kept slipping through dirty spaces and sewers, amongst the everlasting stench, mangy rats, grumbling Hollows and dirty, slimy walls that leaked an endless stream of putrid fluids. Her lungs burned with each breath like she'd swallowed scorching embers, and it was pretty obvious now that she'd broken some ribs during her descent. Her body complained with each movement it was forced to endure, one of her shoulders most likely broken, while her watery eyes desperately searched through the darkness for some sign of respite or the Bell. However, she was barely scratching the surface of the Kingdom of Rot and Pestilence, crawling through the tip of its unsurmountable lands like the rest of rats, fetid creatures and Hollowed husks.

At last, the nearness of a bonfire spurred her on, fueling her hope through the slime, devouring ooze and stinking darkness. As soon as she reached the bonfire, hidden in a closed and relatively clean room, she dropped to her knees, refilled her Estus flask and drifted to sleep close to the ashes and bones of fallen Undead feeding the flames. Again, she wasn't sure if she was just losing consciousness or actually sleeping, but welcomed it nonetheless as a subtle and well-deserved relief.

The shadows of the gloomy forest engulfed her like the Abyss itself, but she ignored it, focusing on the desperate moans coming from the ruins near the clearing. It was certainly strange. Those accursed with the Darksign couldn't speak coherently or rely on their consciousness anymore; they couldn't even beg for their pathetic existences. So, who was making those awful sounds, then?

On that dark winter night, she walked under the naked branches of the trees, bathed in the eerie rays of an impassive moon and feeling that something wasn't right. As always, their quarries were gathered and bound with heavy chains and shackles, waiting in line to burn for hours after being shrouded in one of the cleric knight's charms. They moaned or wept with their mouths wide open, reaching out towards the fires with their spindly arms as if their muddled brains somehow acknowledged the danger and felt something for those charred bodies. But that was impossible. The Undead couldn't feel anything; they were dangerous and contagious. That's why they were mercilessly killed.

She could barely breathe. Her arm trembled, her sword dripping blood. Her peers didn't seem to care at all, and she didn't know whether she should or not. Her mere thoughts seemed like heresy mixed with stupidity when they were just hunters doing what they've been paid for, and righteousness was a luxury no mercenary could afford; she'd always known that.

Her thoughts faded, receding, sinking into an empty ring of black fire. Lies, just lies all around her. She desperately wanted to keep trusting her company of hunters. She wanted to believe they were doing something that happened to be of service to the clerics. Still, a nagging feeling kept whispering that she could someday be the one burning in one of those pyres, or marching on in a long line of Undead chained up and bound to the North. Someday someone she loved could pretend she couldn't feel anything and forget about her while she faded away.

Some of the Undead still seemed aware and watched in anguish as they were cornered and massacred like unfeeling beasts, while the real beasts impassively led them to such a fate.

How was this happening? Why was she just standing there?

Blade woke up covered in sweat, immediately knowing something was off. A frigid feeling pinched at her muscles, strong enough to snap her out of her nasty dreams and put her on guard.

Growling under her breath, Blade unsheathed her sword and made sure her other arm was fully repaired before picking up her shield; then, she looked towards the entrance of the room, freezing on the spot at the sight of a stranger. The sound of heavy spectral breathing reminded her of Solaire's apparition, but this stranger was nothing like the cheery Warrior of Sunlight. He had a dark shape and a bright blood-red aura surrounding his armour-clad body, which was distinguishably similar to Oscar's despite his ebony figure. However, the astoran armour didn't seem to be in good condition, covered by some kind of corruption. Furthermore, the stranger's stance wasn't simply stuck up and proud, like most knights, but firm and menacing, like a wolf watching in the night with an enormous zweihander resting on his shoulder.

Blade jumped to her feet, shield raised and sword at the ready.

“Who are you? State your intentions,” Blade menacingly demanded, her sword aimed at him.

The stranger bowed. Increasingly confused, Blade stirred, not changing positions or lowering her sword. The wraith pointed to the slug-filled tunnel beyond the room and took several steps into it; then, he turned and called for her with a sharp gesture.

Following that phantom was absurd, but remaining in a limited space against someone with such a greatsword wasn't a smart move either. Blade moved towards the exit without lowering her shield or sword. If he hadn't chosen to kill her in her sleep, then he might as well wait a little longer to make his intentions clear. She watched as the phantom wade through ankle-deep filthy water, unconcerned about her position a few steps behind him while he focused on the giant slugs-like creatures falling around him.

Blade frowned as she came across the corpse of yet another butcher with its neck snapped. The phantom pointed at it, squaring his shoulders with a heavy breath and dissolute laughter. She didn't know if she should take it as a nice gesture, but she kept her attention on the stranger and stepped over the corpse, following him to a dark room beyond the corridor. It seemed to be some kind of pantry full of barrels and boxes, reeking of damp wood, blood, and the lingering filth of the depths that doused everything. She raised an eyebrow inside her helmet as she spotted someone stuck in one of the barrels, hopping as if trying to jump out.

“You! Yes, you! Here, over here! Please, you must help me or she'll have me for lunch! Oh, please…” the man inside the barrel pleaded.

“She?” Blade wondered, considering whether the last butcher was, in fact, a woman.

At that point, it had to be a joke. It just wasn't possible that every single traveller she came across in Lordran ended up trapped and in need of rescue. Someone had to be testing her patience, no doubt. Why wouldn't they just pay attention and be prepared before sticking their noses into the most dangerous areas of a crumbling city of higher beings they barely understood? It wasn't that hard to be careful...

Blade's eyes widened, feeling a shocking pain erupting in her chest and witnessing a massive sword sticking out through her cuirass like it was made of butter. She coughed up blood, her vision blurred, and heard a faint voice in the distance.

“Not a Black Phantom, damn it all… I need to get out!”

She felt the phantom's presence looming right behind her, and somewhere in her dying mind, she recognized the zweihander sticking out of her chest. With no time to think or react, she stood there as the sword left her body, and she cried out in pain as she felt the subsequent slashing from her shoulder to her chest. Choking on her own blood, Blade fell to her knees with her face to the ground. Then, death came for her, enveloping her in its cold and well-known embrace.

Anger bubbled up in her guts as she rose again in the bonfire, embracing her last Humanity.

She had lost all her accumulated souls to a backstabbing rat, like an idiot. There had to be a lesson in her ironic situation, maybe about being more forgiving and less judgmental about others' troubles, or perhaps practising what she preached, but she was way too furious to reflect on the moral of the story. The stupidity of her actions hit her right in the face. It wasn't like that phantom came out of the blue; she knew he was standing right there with absolutely no guarantees indicating that he would remain amicable.

Enraged, she got up, deciding to look for him and take revenge to mend her wounded pride. Her furious gaze went over every corner, going out to the tunnels and taking the same route in hopes of finding any sign of his whereabouts. If she couldn't find him, she would at least make sure that the man stuck on a barrel was dead or gone after figuring out if he was his accomplice.

Nothing about the situation made sense to her. Why had the phantom helped her, to begin with, just to end up backstabbing her? He could've easily killed her while she'd been sleeping at the bonfire, straight to the point. Maybe he found some sort of twisted pleasure in toying with his victims? Was it just a well-laid trap to lure travellers and make them drop their guard?

Blade heard the agitated breathing coming from the trapped man even before she entered back to the storage room. He was still there, alive, fruitlessly trying to knock the barrel over. Ignoring his efforts to get free, Blade started smashing every barrel on her way to him, and he looked at her in horror, already sensing her murderous intent.

“No, no…!”

She carelessly knocked down the last barrel, cutting off the man's distressed cries asking for mercy. He came out face-first on the dirty floor, handcuffed, hence why he hadn't been able to get out on his own.

Blade placed the tip of her sword over his chest; the man shuddered. He looked young, dressed in yellowish hooded rags, with brown hair and an unkempt beard. His dark eyes stared fearfully at her, unable to see anything through her helmet.

“That phantom brought me to you to stab me in the back like a coward. Tell me who you are and if you know that phantom right now, or I'll kill you over and over again until you go Hollow,” Blade warned in a low, dangerous growl.

“No, please! I swear I don't know anything about him!” the man squealed, looking at her in horror and eager to comply. “My name is Laurentius, of the Great Swamp. I'm a pyromancer. I don't know who that Black Phantom was, I swear. I… I was just trying to reach the depths of Blighttown, but I think I'll just head back to the surface. Please, I'm telling the truth. I beg you, release me. I will be in your debt, and I'll never stand in your way. Ever.”

Blade frowned, brooding about it. She was pretty sure she'd heard of the savage Flame worshipers of a far-off ancient swamp, but she couldn't recall ever setting foot on it or meeting one of its inhabitants. But, of course, she couldn't trust her own memories. It didn't seem like a good idea to set free someone with the ability to set his surroundings on fire. Or set her on fire. She was sick of being set on fire, honestly.

“How do I know you won't use your pyromancies against me? Listen, I don't have an ounce of patience left, and even if it hurts, I can go through fire, miracles and magic to kill anyone if necessary; I want you to know that.”

“I swear, I give you my word. I don't know what else to say. I'm not a murderer or a warrior; I'm only interested in knowledge,” the man desperately said.

With an annoyed sigh, Blade bent down and started to cut off Laurentius' bonds, tired of the submissive whines of the frightened scholar, just as she'd been with Griggs, the sorcerer. She didn't like them very much, but there was no need to leave them to die if they were harmless. At least for now.

Laurentius stood up, rubbing his wrists, and made a placating gesture.

“Get out of my sight,” Blade ordered, pointing towards the entrance.

The man hesitated.

“I can repay my debt to you by teaching you about pyromancy, if you wish,” he offered.

Teaching her how to handle fire, of all things.

“Me, playing with fire? I don't think so,” Blade answered, seeing how Laurentius deflated, not knowing if he ought to be offended or not. “I'm too busy looking for that bloody Bell, anyway. Keep your sorceries to yourself.”

Laurentius nodded, a gleam of interest shining in his eyes.

“They say that the Bell is set on the boundaries of the ancient kingdom of the witches of Izalith! Ah… I wish I could see it with my own eyes. But Blighttown and these Depths would be the end of me. And I don't think I could even get in, since it's sealed off,” Laurentius rambled.

Blade rested her sword on her shoulder.

“Is there no access to that place, then?” she asked, slightly tilting her head.

“Not that I know of,” he replied, shrugging. “Also, you should watch out for the giant beast that prowls around here, trapped in a flooded chamber. I heard its roar shaking the walls.”

Encountering beasts was nothing new, and besides, it might be guarding something of interest. Perhaps an entrance to that Blighttown, deeper even than the depths of the Undead Burg, the very thing she was desperately looking for. Which sounded somewhat deranged, but the sooner she dealt with her business in that foul place, the sooner she could head out and never go back down.

“I'm more worried about backstabbing phantoms than beasts right now,” Blade muttered, side-eyeing Laurentius. “Why didn't he attack you?”

Laurentius uncomfortably scratched his beard.

“Well... I don't know. He took your Humanity and disappeared. I... I guess he didn't require more or couldn't keep our worlds converging. Invaders are relentless and very annoying, but they have their limits.”

Invaders? The was no doubt that they were a nuisance; that much was true.

“I won't hesitate next time,” she growled under her breath.

“This place is dangerous, but it attracts all kinds of people, good and bad,” the pyromancer darkly uttered, shaken and lost in his rambling once again. “I saw this bizarre looking knight going through here before I was captured. I hope he didn't run into some invaders... or the beast. He was a pleasant fellow.”

Having a hunch of who he was talking about even before checking it out, Blade couldn't help feeling mixed emotions about it. If it was Solaire, she didn't know if he was exceptionally fast or time was playing tricks on her, but she hadn't expected to find him so far ahead of her.

“Was that knight wearing a sun on his chest? And green, furry pauldrons?”

The pyromancer, who had been lost in thought, raised his eyebrows.

“Yes, indeed,” he replied. “Do you know him?

Blade grunted. She didn't even want to consider the point of Solaire looking for his sun in the Depths, but she decided that the idea that he might be dealing with Black Phantoms or the mysterious beast irritated and worried her in equal measure. Of course, she told herself it was simply because of the inconvenience of losing a capable ally. Still, she wasn't happy with that cursory concern anyway.

She looked at the pyromancer.

“I'm going to end that beast. If I find out you were lying to me and you had anything to do with that ghostly rat, you'll be sorry,” she hissed, to which Laurentius bolted out of the room without another word.

Blade headed down towards the most disgusting, treacherous and dark places of the Depths, hoping to take revenge on that phantom and, if possible, find out what the hell was Solaire doing. She could only hope he was sane enough not to throw himself needlessly into danger in his quest, looking for a sun that had no business being in those rotting slums. Purely for practical reasons as her ally, of course, not that she gave a damn about him.

She grabbed her soapstone from within one of her bags and clenched her teeth, telling herself that she just wanted to make sure everything was in order and find out what had happened to the kids, nothing else. Since Solaire and her shared the same path to different destinations, it made sense for her to check on him. He had already been helpful on several occasions.

As callous as she was, Blade wasn't cruel, and just as she'd wanted to repay her debt to Oscar of Astora, she would do so too with Solaire. On the other hand, this Laurentius had shed some light on her new destination, so she had to keep moving. If he wasn't lying, of course.

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, Blade couldn't find the backstabbing Black Phantom again to take revenge. Instead, she found a different invader while roaming the lower parts of the sewers, but this one had clear murderous intentions since the very first moment their worlds intertwined. Unlike the previous one, this one showed no signs of deceit. He just attacked.

The Black Phantom had a peculiar appearance, wearing dark armour plagued with twisted and rusty spikes protruding from every possible part, including his small round shield and one-handed sword. He had a brutally physical fighting style, something that didn't play entirely on his behalf when going up against a knowable opponent, but he still managed to corner Blade on more than one occasion. His onslaught was relentless; he charged like a madman, eager to pierce through her armour and bleed her as soon as possible, without a care for his safety and oblivious to any pain. He took every hit without flinching and kept hitting her, panting in a ghostly, almost ethereal way, enveloped in a dark, blood-red aura that seemed to reflect his blood thirst. At some point, when Blade tried to retreat and get some space to avoid getting crushed against a wall, he threw himself at her to poke her with his armour, using its spikes as a weapon and slashed without mercy.

Blade took several cuts but held her ground despite the unfortunate intervention of some mangy rats. However, she realized too late that the invader, other than being extremely violent and immune to physical pain, was far from stupid and was fully prepared to use the environment against her to get the slightest advantage. She fell through a hole in the ground while backing up from his hits, screaming and landing on her back on the wet floor of a lower level.

"Shit!" she shouted, enveloped in a pestilent cloud of unknown origin and feeling every part of her body in absolute agony after the hard fall.

The invading Dark Phantom plunged through the hole above to crush her.

Rolling over and coughing, she felt her body painfully contracting to the point of almost getting entirely paralyzed. It seemed like suddenly everything went in slow motion. She could hear the spikes and metallic pieces of the attacker grinding with each movement and a strange gurgling sound around them. Then, she saw two giant orbs, like bulbous eyes staring at her in the darkness of the labyrinthine sewer. Barely able to breathe and desperate to escape the smoke-like cloud, she stood up and swung her sword blindly while limping away.

The inhuman shriek of a creature told her she had somehow managed to get one of those bulgy-eyed things, but the invader kept approaching without suffering the paralyzing effects of the fog. He easily dodged her blind attacks and slammed his sword into her shoulder, making her scream through her teeth when she felt the cold and rough metal finally piercing the mail and getting to her skin. Cursing, Blade tried to ignore the pain and kept trying to regain her footing and crawl out of that place, splashing through the dirty water. She could feel her blood pouring underneath the armour and her shoulder getting numb as she ran up a flight of stairs, trying to move as fast as possible while the poisonous paralysis receded. Still, she was fully aware of her attacker's presence at her heels like a wolf knowing it was soon time to kill its prey, as well as her weakness growing increasingly worse with every drop of blood she lost and the strain of the unending action. Then, she felt a blow from the invader's sword landing on her leg while trying to climb up more stairs, though it didn't quite cut the leather of her boots. Blade grunted in pain but kept moving, limping and unable to find a good spot to defend herself. At that point, she ran to gain some desperate advantage and deny the killer of the rushed, bloody fight he wanted.

She stopped after the last step of the stairs, panting, seeing through the slits in the helmet a dimly lighted cavern where the structures built in stone overlooked a soaked expanse filled with the echoes of falling water. Thanks to the light coming through a crack in one of the upper walls of the cavern, she spotted a tall and sinister Channeler a few meters away, surrounded by rats. Swallowing hard, she hurried in that direction, having little choice. Sourly thinking that she couldn't expect to have any luck, she killed several rats and got ready to face the mage. Unfortunately, she didn't have time for that before the Phantom rushed towards her to finish her once and for all.

"Give me a moment to breathe, you filthy hedgehog!" Blade growled, entangled with both enemies, who seemed to agree without needing a single word that they'd rather kill her than fight each other.

The spike-armoured invader charged at her, and the Channeler fired a bolt of cold magic. Blade tried to take cover at the edge of that expansive stone balcony, but the Phantom tackled her at full speed, and suddenly they were both falling over the railings and into the void. Blade instinctively tried to grab onto something, clutching the invader's arm, getting herself stabbed with it, and receiving a punch to her face. They both went down like a ball of metal and dark energy, silently thanking Andre for the proper armour and the helmet in her last moments. At least she didn't have her face torn to shreds.

Finally, her body hit the waterlogged ground many feet below with a thud. The first thing she felt was how her bones broke, and her organs got squashed with the impact; then, it was all a confusing explosion of general aching agony. She couldn't breathe, desperately gasping for air and struggling in indescribable pain. The Black Phantom died by her side, twitching as his ethereal form disappeared into thin air. Blade kept trying to catch her breath, writhing, refusing to die, and fully conscious that she had no more Humanities left to recover her full strength. She wasn't willingly returning to the numb coldness that awaited her before Hollowing.

She clutched the Estus flask with a barely feeling hand, but the tremors made it slip through her fingers and spill onto the wet stone floor before her disbelieving eyes. So, she was going to die whether she wanted it or not, slowly and horribly too, all because of that wretched murderer she wasn't strong enough to kill.

Tears flooded her eyes, although she didn't know if they were from pain or rage.

No. She couldn't give up. Something screamed at her that she had to seek help nearby, as ridiculous as the thought of finding someone amicable on that sewer was. About to lose consciousness, she fought to get up despite the searing pain, staggering, and limped towards a dark passage. She reached out, dropping to her knees. Something glowed beneath her, something warm, the same thing that had made her blindly look around for help.

Blade collapsed into the shimmering, golden light, unable to control her shattered body anymore.

They turned their backs on her, too horrified to look her in the eye. Her companions, who had been like her family for years, now treated her like any other miserable Undead plaguing the world. As an inferior and dangerous being. No, it was much worse than that. They looked at her with disgust, with compassion they dared not express aloud. She yelled and cursed them. She asked them to get her out, to please remember who she was, but the wind blew her words away.

"Soon, you won't even remember yourself."

Those words hurt deeper than anything else, and when someone said that, she went silent and tried to keep herself together, feeling as if her heart had just shattered into a million pieces.

That night she knew that her existence would forever be the same Undeath she feared, despised, persecuted, and annihilated. They weren't going to kill her, but her fate would be much worse, born of the cowardice of her former companions and their need to keep their hands clean, of their unwillingness to look while she burned and cried in pain. Her own family would hand her over to the clerics and send her to oblivion without a backward glance.

She was too scared and angry to understand why she had to endure this Curse, this pain. Was it a punishment for her sins? She wanted to remember everything. She didn't want to lose everything and go North to rot in a cell when all she had done was try to help.

Weak and heartbroken, she lay in a corner and cried, remembering every cursed person she had helped exterminate. She might soon forget everything, but those pleading eyes and agonised cries would never leave her mind. It was too late now.

Blade felt trapped, unable to breathe. Something was compressing her chest, sending horrible waves of pain each time she expanded her damaged lungs, and each time less air seemed to enter them. She was lying down, but not face down as she had fallen; instead, she was somehow face up. She didn't think she'd been able to do it herself when she couldn't lift a single arm properly, much less while unconscious.

Her eyes widened, and she started panting, the world spinning inside the helmet while the eye-slits allowed a confused and blurry view of the outside. She futilely tried to remove her breastplate, weakly scratching the metallic surface with her gauntlet, unable even to reach the straps, repeating the gesture twice before panicking as a sharp pain pierced at her rib cage from the movement.

Trying to keep her breathing steady and calm herself, Blade paused when she heard a metallic sound and then some footsteps wrapped in a peculiar echo. There was someone there behind her. The sound of a ghostly breath made her freeze completely, abandoning every attempt to remove her armour. She would not willingly give herself up to death despite being covered in sweat, blood, and dirt, having fallen a considerable distance, and having broken too many bones to count. At that moment, her armour was the only barrier of defence she had left.

Panic gripped at her insides as she remembered that she was in a place plagued by Black Phantoms, and she started wildly thrashing around despite the indescribable pain when a hand softly touched the side of her helmet. She wanted to scream, but a ragged breath was all that left her lips. Then, turning her head, she saw the figure moving to her side, seemingly to show itself. She recognized Solaire's golden Phantom through the mists of her frightened mind, who knelt beside her and watched her in silence. Forcibly regulating her breathing to stop the unnecessary pain, Blade stopped struggling and stared at him as he reached for her again, carefully removing her helmet, holding her head with one hand and pulling with the other. She couldn't deny that breathing the humid air of the depths was better than drowning inside her helmet, even if it felt cold and unpleasant, with her hair sticking to her skin and a horrible ache spreading from her neck down her back and into her chest.

So Laurentius wasn't lying; the knight was in the Depths. She didn't know how he had found her, but she couldn't deny she was certainly glad to see someone that wasn't hell-bent on killing her.

Blade tensed as the golden Phantom reached for her torso. She exhaled heavily, and the knight paused, waiting until she reluctantly nodded, understanding that he intended to help her relieve some of the pressure from her armour. Then, steeling herself, she swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and waited for the pain.

To her surprise, the knight was as exceptionally careful as he had been removing the helmet. She tried to distract herself by watching his ghostly figure, tangible yet dissolute in the golden glow, letting him untie the side straps. The man knew what he was doing, and although it was hard for her to admit it, she had no choice but to trust him and let him do it, leaving her pride aside for a moment. The Phantom seemed to have a firmness similar to that of a real person and gave off a vibrant warmth, so it wasn't entirely unpleasant, but she still chose to look away as he put his hands on her shoulders to remove her pauldrons and finally the cuirass. She also allowed him to remove other pieces of her arms, instantly getting a noticeable relief while also feeling incredibly vulnerable.

Blade watched him move behind her again, putting a hand behind her neck to help her lift her head. She allowed it, biting her tongue to keep from crying out in pain, and felt another hand on her back to gently straighten her up. She was about to clarify that she couldn't get up, letting out a dry moan, but that didn't seem to be Solaire's final intention. Instead, he offered her his Estus flask and waited until she softly nodded, letting him bring it to her lips and allowing her to sip carefully. She immediately felt relief when the invigorating liquid started sliding down her throat, slowly bringing her body back to life with its warmth. Instinctively, she drank as much as possible without realising she was leaving Solaire with nothing until the flask was empty; however, he didn't seem worried and didn't take it away until she finished and was slowly able to move her hands by herself.

Solaire silently helped move her against the wall and sat close beside her so she could lean against him and rest her head off the cold, wet stone if she felt too weak to keep sitting straight by herself.

Blade couldn't deny it. The situation was incomprehensibly uncomfortable, and she didn't know exactly why. It wasn't a physical discomfort; her injuries took care of that, but something else entirely. She didn't know what to make of physical contact, even if it was with a phantom and not a corporeal person. The seemingly simple situation of laying her side against him and softly being able to lay her head on the furry pauldrons on his shoulder was horrifying. Sadly, it seemed that she had been bitter and isolated for far too long, forced to reduce all her interactions with other people to something distant and cold, and the Phantom's comforting warmth and proximity messed with her on so many levels she couldn't even begin to process it. Despite not knowing what to do or how to feel, the worst part was that she didn't hate it. It had to be some twisted joke. She couldn't be this pathetic.

Unable to look at him, Blade kept her eyes looking straight ahead. She wanted to despise him so desperately that even she could see the utter absurdity of it. Her impulses to disdain everything remotely vulnerable were slowly starting to crumble, putting up the last fight against what the knight represented, desperately clinging to anything strictly pragmatic instead of allowing that sudden longing and confusion to take root in her heart. She couldn't be cynical when Solaire was doing so much without expecting anything in return, so she couldn't keep away the gratitude she felt instead of contempt and the trust growing where there was suspicion before. Her cold demeanour melted away in those scary moments. With a defeated sigh, Blade thought that perhaps that's what ended up happening to everyone around him since it seemed inevitable to give in to his cheerful selflessness and unwavering strength, which made her think that the knight probably should be going on his way to deal with his sun-seeking quest or to help others, instead of wasting any more time with her. Wasn't he in any hurry? How long could he remain a Phantom?

Hours passed, and neither moved. He couldn't speak, and she didn't want to, so they waited in silence while she finished healing, with no sign that Solaire intended to leave. It wasn't until Blade realized she could move without writhing in pain that she broke away from him and tried to get up. Feeling her movement, Solaire raised his helmeted head, which he had been leaning against the wall, and seemed to make a sound like a yawn. Blade turned to look at him, watching him as he stretched, raising an eyebrow and realising that the warrior of sunlight had fallen asleep. While he was a Phantom. To her utter horror, she somehow found that notion endearing.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Solaire stood up and offered to help her, holding out a hand that she was prepared to refuse. But she didn't. Jaw set, she nodded and allowed him to step closer; immediately, the knight crouched by her side and slipped her arm over his shoulders, grabbing her hand and pulling her against him while being extremely careful not to squeeze her still-aching torso. With tremendous strength, Solaire helped her up. Blade tried to think of anything but how ridiculously uncomfortable she was again, her heart beating wildly and her cheeks burning as the vibrating sensation from the Phantom's contact enveloped her, overwhelmingly warm. However, she was luckily distracted by a reminiscent wave of pain cursing through her muscles as soon as they started walking. It seemed that getting drowned in Estus wasn't enough to come back from the brink of death, and she was forced to slow down and keep resting whether she wanted it or not. Wonderful.

A thunderous roar shook the stone walls. Unfortunately, Laurentius also seemed to be right about something monstrous nesting in the Depths, and she was in no condition to deal with it or any more would-be invaders.

Solaire made a ghostly sound different from the continuous deep breathing she had grown used to, probably thinking the same as her. With some urgency, he made a gesture pretending to bend down to pick her up but was sensible enough not to attempt it without permission. Blade shook her head, looking at him menacingly. She might've surrendered to some degree, but she wasn't about to willingly throw herself into his arms and let him carry her like some damsel in distress.

"Nope. Don't even think about it." Strange sounds down the halls made Solaire tense, and she was again aware that she did not and could not carry any weapons. Groaning in frustration and feeling another nauseating wave of pain while trying to take a step, Blade cursed her weakness and tried to back away from the humiliating situation. It couldn't get any worse. "Okay. But... hurry up."

Of all the things she had expected to live in Lordran, being carried in bridal style by a golden Phantom around some pestilent sewers wasn't one of them. That the Phantom was Solaire didn't particularly help, it only made it more bizarre and mortifying. She looked away and let him slip a hand under her knees, easily lifting her and shifting his grip with his other arm behind her back to carry her more comfortably. Blade still had an arm around his shoulders, buried in the furry pauldrons, as golden as everything else in him in that spectral form. She moved her fingers through the shiny hair, intent on distracting herself from the pathetic situation as she was being carried up the stairs, having the knight's greathelm uncomfortably close. The texture of the pauldrons was familiar; it looked like hair, but it didn't have exactly the same firmness as happened with the rest of the ghostly figure. That didn't stop it from looking perfectly real, making her wonder what a person's skin would feel like in that strange, summoned appearance. Out of curiosity, of course. Not that she wanted to find out, and she was still wearing gloves anyway.

When they reached the bonfire, Blade freed herself from the knight's grip and sat heavily against the wall, close to the flames. Solaire gestured outside, then left, returning shortly with the pieces of armour and weapons they had left behind.

The truth was that Blade was quite confused by his dedication. It didn't seem like he considered helping others a waste of time, quite the opposite, but Blade didn't understand why he kept having patience with someone that had been uncooperative and unpleasant. Why did he keep helping her? By the time he returned with his things, she was feeling better, though still weak; she removed some other straps from her armour and her gauntlets and laid down her blanket by the fire, deep in thought. Seeing this and with no apparent intention of leaving, Solaire sat on the other side, staring at her in silence.

"I don't understand," Blade said in a low tone, looking at him through the flames of the fire. "Why do you help me?"

Solaire, of course, said nothing in return. Instead, he slightly shook his head, shrugged as if finding that question absurd, and kept staring. Blade sighed, closing her eyes and pretending to sleep. If she were in his place and had it in her heart to stop and help people, she would seriously think about it and conclude that it wasn't worth wasting her time or energy on someone like her. But Solaire was a strange man that was nothing like her or any other selfish creature roaming around Lordran, and for the first time, she felt utterly unworthy of his attention.

Chapter Text

Blade woke up with a faint memory of pain straining her muscles. She wasn't fully rested but hadn't had any nightmares, and her body seemed wholly recovered. Nevertheless, it took her a few seconds to remember that she hadn't reached the safety of the bonfire on her own.

She looked up to find the Knight of Sunlight leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her from the other side of the room. It vaguely reminded her of the situation with the backstabbing Black Phantom in that room, despite their evident differences.

Solaire stepped away from the wall and slightly bowed to her, apparently unbothered by the fact that he'd had to wait idly while she slept. At that point, Blade doubted anything could actually bother him. However, she couldn't help wondering how anyone could afford to develop such a disposition when people invariably turned heartless and selfish everywhere in the world. It was as if the natural corruption of Humanity couldn't reach him, but far from making him seem like a superior creature, it was even easier for him to blend in with others. It didn't make any sense.

"I know you can't talk, but I wanted to say something anyway," Blade said, looking down at the bonfire's flames, frowning. She wasn't even remotely like him, but she wasn't totally irredeemable either. She saw him move out of the corner of her eye, briefly hesitating, before coming over and sitting off to the side, far enough not to disturb her. "How are the kids? Did you get them to the Shrine?" Solaire nodded, his helmet tilted sideways at her. Blade nodded in return, feeling sudden relief from a buried worry she didn't know she'd been harboring. "Good. And… thanks for helping me. I've had two encounters with Black Phantoms, and I must admit I underestimated them. They have been worse enemies than many monsters, and I felt them stealing my strength. I don't even know how I summoned you, but I will pay my debt. I still have souls to..."

She reached out her hand, offering the softly glowing souls she had left, but stopped short as Solaire immediately brushed it away. His hand reached up in denial and rested against hers, wrapping it and closing it for her to take them back.

It's warm, she thought, her mind uncontrollably wandering off to the same question she had asked herself when he carried her away. Everything else faded at the touch; it was as if it went completely blank, and every thought dissipated at the burning sensation going from her hand to the rest of her body.

What does it feel like to touch the skin of a Phantom? It was warm and quite solid, producing a slight tingling sensation on contact. It felt nice, even if it wasn't like a corporeal person's touch, and the energy buzzed around like the ripples in a pond.

"As you wish," Blade murmured, clearing her throat and retrieving the souls while putting those nonsensical thoughts aside with a sour expression. "Let's get going. I want to find that creature hidden in the depths of this place."

She rose to her feet, picking up her things and remembering with some chagrin that she'd reached the bonfire as a helpless damsel carried in someone's arms. It seemed increasingly hard to keep her pride intact, whether because of her foolish thoughts or the unfortunate situations she found herself in. To be honest, Blade wanted to forget absolutely everything that had happened before falling asleep, including her humiliation with the Black Phantoms. Dying by some primal creature or horrible monster was one thing, but failing at the hands of some despicable human was quite another.

Sighing, Blade put on her helmet and pointed the tip of her sword toward the exit. The knight had also picked up his shield, and drew his sword, nodding. He seemed eager to head out as well.

As they went through the corridors, Blade glanced sideways at the knight. She was starting to get used to the presence of the summoned Phantom, the strange breathing, the glow that surrounded him, and the impossibility of communicating with words, but it was still eerily unnerving. She was also getting used to the man himself, perhaps thanks to the impossibility of verbal communication allowing her more space to come to terms with his personality. She had to admit that she tolerated him better, knowing her rejection stemmed from something begrudgingly irrational. It was born from fear towards the hope he represented, the Humanity that he seemed to radiate despite his particular madness. It was increasingly hard to deny a growing openness to that hope, like a prisoner rotting in a dank pit of darkness, seeing the light and feeling the heat from the unreachable sky.

Taking a deep breath, Blade tightly gripped the hilt of her sword. When she asked why he was helping her, waiting for him to rethink his approach, she hadn't realized that deep down, she didn't want that to happen. She didn't know why, but the thought of him turning his back on her felt like watching a fragment of the Abyss coming closer, cold and painful and terrifying, as if the pit were growing deeper and deeper, and the light was dying off again. It was distressing and undoubtedly pathetic, part of the double-edged reality she had been desperately trying to avoid at the sight of anything slightly benevolent towards her. Vulnerability and dependency only led to misery; she learned that the moment she ended up at the Undead Asylum. Trust had become a lacerating source of pain.

Pushing away those inconvenient thoughts, Blade focused on the present and the eternal rawness of the situation. She couldn't let her guard down so much. What was wrong with her?

Walking in silence, their path led them back to the flooded cavern, where they only ran into some rats they quickly killed. Then, standing in the same spot where she'd landed and broken her bones, Blade stopped and listened to a distant growl. Solaire halted beside her, shield gripped tightly and sword at the ready, his gaze fixed on the point from which the faint sound came.

Thunderous footsteps shook the cavern, and a small reptilian head peeked out from beyond the waterfall at the far end of the cavern. Blade raised her eyebrows, watching as it shyly sniffed around, not nearly as big as she had expected; at least, that's what she thought until the creature's body followed its tiny head. She almost fell back as she saw how a titanic beast reared up, leaving the small head ridiculous and incongruously out of proportion to the rest of the body. The beast had massive upright jaws filled with rows and rows of teeth, followed by a reptilian body with four legs that hardly supported its weight while holding the jaws and little head raised, and four membranous wings uselessly flapped around. The shape of the aberration was hideous, and Blade wondered once again what was going on in this land, what could possibly create something so outlandish and grotesque.

She snapped out of her stupor as the monstrosity charged towards them and started running, seeing Solaire going in the opposite direction to divide the creature's attention. The only thing she knew for sure was that she absolutely did not want to be in the front part of that thing, within range of the jaws.

It wasn't an easy fight. The beast turned, lashed its tail, leaped into the air flapping its wings, spitting a thick, stinking liquid, and no matter how much she and Solaire attacked, they seemed to make no dent in the scaly creature. The knight's lightning bolts whirred, flaying its skin, but the monstrosity continued to charge and attack in a rage. Blade lost count of how many times she slashed her sword into the creature's belly and legs with no effect, but she didn't give up, holding her breath as the beast clawed Solaire to the ground, brutally throwing him against a pillar. Then, with the knight still on the ground, it lunged at him, crushing him with its huge mouth full of giant fangs and shaking the entire cavern. Paralyzed for a few seconds while the beast lifted its jaws from the ground, Blade watched as the spectral knight arched his back in agony, disappearing with a distant ghostly sound of pain. The memory of the stoic invader dying and writhing in pain, despite hiding it during their fight, returned to her mind. They felt pain despite being phantoms, and Blade had no doubt that their agony was just as genuine as physically dying.

Explosive and unexpected anger made her lose all semblance of caution. She ran towards the beast with a defiant howl, repeatedly driving her sword into its leg. The monstrosity roared and snapped its jaws at her, but Blade rolled out of reach just in time, getting up and turning, heading for the small lizard's head now within reach. With a snarl, she plunged her sword into it, impaling it, and the whole beast writhed with an agonizing sound, shaking the entire cave. Blade released her sword and stood there, watching it with shaking legs.

The creature died, falling into a sea of ownerless souls that fled towards her like tiny specks of light leaving its former carcass. Something dropped with a clang from the beast's gaping mouth as if it had spewed it out in a final death rattle. A dirty, rotten little key that landed in a small puddle.

Blade approached where it landed, panting, feeling the souls strengthening her body in a strange dissonance against her exhaustion. Taking a deep breath, she bent down and took the key with her gloved fingers, carefully examining the rusty little thing. It surely had to be significant, guarded and devoured by a misshapen beast. Who would search for a key inside the creature? Blade had assumed that the beast would protect a hidden path or something of interest, but not literally inside its guts.

Wiping the key on the skirts of her armor, Blade started backing her way out of the cave, thinking of Solaire and wondering if he was okay. Not realizing she had reached this point, she stood right where she had found Solaire's summon sign, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She had the soapstone in her hands, the stone that was supposedly capable of connecting worlds. After her hostile attitude, pretentious denial, and gratuitous animosity, she couldn't even inwardly pretend that she didn't care one bit about the Knight of Sunlight. Perhaps he, too, would be open to accepting help, and she could check on him after his spectral death and repay her debt.

Remembering the runes Solaire had taught her for the summoning process, Blade began to inscribe in the ground with the soapstone, watching as the letters started to glow white, and waited.

Yawning, she sat on the ground and kept waiting until her vision got blurry and started experiencing a peculiar sensation. She couldn't see a thing, hopelessly swept away by a blinding chaos of mists and darkness, until her sight came back and she rose to her feet enveloped in a pale glow. She was standing in the same spot where she had written the sign, looking in confusion at an unknown pilgrim. He had a rugged appearance, with double blades, a hood, disparate pieces of armor and a haggard face, his black eyes fixed on her.

Blade frowned. Solaire was nowhere to be seen.

"Who are you?" she asked, but no words came out of her mouth, only a spectral echo.

Of course. She couldn't communicate by talking.

The stranger huffed as she looked down at herself, amazed at the whitish aura that completely covered her and wondering why it differed from Solaire's or the Black Phantoms.

"Let's go for the beast nesting in the cave. Rumor has it that it's keeping something of value," the stranger said, pointing down the path. "It's already killed me twice, and I need help. Try not to die and get the creature's attention away from me."

Slightly bristled by the man's authoritative tone, Blade raised an eyebrow inside her helmet and thought he should be thankful she couldn't speak. In fact, she considered not taking a single step and going back to her world, but she didn't know how to do it. The only way she knew, through Solaire's example, was to complete her task and help the host.

Grunting, she followed the ragged Undead to find that the gaping beast was still alive. Blade tried to rationalise how it was possible, remembering Solaire's words about how time didn't flow naturally in Lordran, and each person seemed to experience their own reality. That might explain that peculiar event, but it didn't distract her from using her knowledge of the beast to defeat it once again and get the host out of the way of its gaping jaws. Blade wouldn't say it was easy the second time either; she was about to get crushed by the creature more than once, but she managed to distract the beast and reach the small head, piercing through it with her sword.

The host seemed too busy admiring the rain of souls and rejoicing in his victory to thank her, so Blade stayed in the background, melting away as a portion of the souls flowed towards her, and she returned to her world. That man seemed far too ungrateful to waste any more time with him, and he was a mediocre fighter, to put it lightly, but at least she got something out of it. She cringed when she again noticed that she was lucky that Solaire didn't think that way.

Hesitantly, she wrote the sign back on the ground.

After being summoned more than fifteen times by different people with all kinds of armor and appearances, sometimes winning and sometimes losing, she confirmed that she also felt pain while being a phantom and dying was an equally horrible experience. She also corroborated that most of the pilgrims had no idea what to do with the key, if they even found it in the corpse of the beast, since many couldn't even see it. The possibility of the gaping beast vomiting it up was simply a matter of sheer luck, with increased odds of happening if it had been trying to bite the ground too many times or sustained belly wounds.

Even if she hadn't found Solaire, Blade felt stronger, and it was worth her time even if she died since it had no impact on her actual body. In addition, going through this experience, she could finally stop worrying about Solaire's physical integrity, even if his dying form still bothered her and seemed to be stuck in her memory. It wasn't like death wasn't a reversible and common thing right now, something she had experienced many, many times, but still.

Once again, she got ready when she felt the pulling sensation announcing that she was being summoned, preparing herself to receive a nameless stranger. But her insistence was rewarded this time, and she rose to face the Knight of Sunlight. He was standing there, sword in hand, shield at the ready, watching her rise like a snowy phantom and bowing as a way of greeting her.

"Hello! I didn't expect to see your sign," he said. His proud stance faltered, and he looked away as if suddenly ashamed of something. "I apologise for falling against the beast. I intended to endure until the end and help you finish it, but it got me and crushed me before I could stand up again. I was wondering if you still managed to kill it."

Blade nodded and looked to the side as well, baffled. After all, not only did he seem glad to see her, but he harshly blamed himself for dying, as if he hadn't fought bravely and risked horrible pain for her. When she died helping other pilgrims, her first thoughts were of wounded pride and pain, not shame for not being helpful enough. Finally, Blade shook her head, not knowing what else to do to convey that she didn't think he was to blame for anything and that her encounter went well.

Solaire nodded, taking a deep breath and getting ready to head down the beast's area with a more relieved stance. She followed him, confident that she knew now enough to help him.

They entered the cavern again, sighting the creature and immediately dividing their paths to attack it from different angles. Seeing the knight move, hurling lightning, going under giant paws, dodging blows, and slashing up and down, Blade bitterly remembered when she thought he had to be inept. Having fought the monster herself and seen dozens of other Undead fight as well, she could safely say that he was one of the best fighters she'd ever seen, one that didn't need a huge sword and expensive armor to survive. Maybe her prejudices weren't helpful if she looked at it that way. Dismissing everyone on her path could lead to losing capable allies, and Andre was right about how foolish it would be not to appreciate them.

After wounding and tricking the gaping beast for a while, it lowered its head, biting the ground while Blade and Solaire dodged out of the way. The two immediately rushed to the head, leaping and plunging their swords into it, killing it.

Blade looked up at the knight, gasping for air as souls surrounded them. He was panting too, stretching and getting his bearings after the battle.

"Thank you, friend! Be careful on your way through Blighttown," Solaire said between ragged breaths, bowing his helmeted head towards her.

Seeing that the creature hadn't vomited up the key, Blade ignored the knight and hastily slashed at the creature's belly to Solaire's utter shock, ignoring the fact that she looked like a sadist who had lost her mind. The creature's insides spilled out onto the floor, giving off a foul odor, and she tore through it again until she caught sight of the stomach, letting its contents fall to the floor. She gestured to the mass of bones, half-digested meat, and indeterminate things spilled on the ground, but her body diluted as she was drawn back into her world. The last thing she saw was Solaire standing still, puzzled, and surely disgusted by the repulsive, flayed corpse she had left before him.

When she returned to her physical form, she finally walked away from that place, hoping the knight understood the message and found the key. So far, she had done everything she could. They mainly were even now, so she could keep going.

Blighttown. Her path continued through that ominously named place, more profound than the Depths and, by its descriptive name, undoubtedly even more rotten than the sewers. Great.

Chapter Text

Blade found out that the gaping dragon's key opened one of the gates leading to Blighttown, a place she would've rather never seen.

Before descending, she met a merchant in peculiar bronze armour, who seemed to find it utterly ridiculous that she was willing to go down to a place like the one sealed off beyond the gates. She would soon understand his warnings and miss the outside air like never before.

Darkness was even thicker, more oppressive than in the Depths. In the bowels of what seemed to be a successively sicker corpse, there were still human-made structures inhabited by the most misshapen, forgotten and sorrowful of all humans remaining in the collapsed city. Blighttown was like a gigantic pustule clinging to the base of one of Lordran's outer walls, with its bones made of trembling wood structures high above the ground and suffocated by the stench rising from below. Everything was unhealthy and poisonous, and death waited around every corner.

Blade fell multiple times while facing the creatures of twisted flesh prowling the structures, landing on lower platforms. She was constantly poisoned, feeling sicker and weaker than ever. Only her Estus saved her from dying for good until she reached a bonfire, looking wearily and longingly up at the distant sky and the branches of the tree far above her. She was no longer in the closed straits of the Depths, but the sight of the distant sky as she breathed in the bilious stench of that sunken place was almost more painful. It reminded her why she desperately wanted to push away everything that the Knight Solaire represented, why she couldn't give up and believe in his unwavering good nature when everything was so unbearably bleak in the world. Light and life were dying, and the darkness slowly engulfed everything, twisting it beyond recognition. Trying to fool oneself would only make things more painful in the end.

Eager to put this part of the journey behind her, Blade continued, feeling dizzier with every breath she took. She suffered a constant fever from the poisoned darts shot by the scrawny wretches strategically hidden around the far-off platforms. She wasn't allowed any relief even after drinking Estus and sitting down to rest. The only thing that helped was the purple moss she got from the crazy merchant before going down to the Depths, something she insisted would make a difference and seemed to take care of the venom for good. That was surprising. She was entirely sure she was being scammed at the time, but it did make a difference. Still, she ran out of it pretty soon and was utterly lost, so she had to hurry up and be careful.

After countless times dying in highly unpleasant ways, she could at least be thankful for stopping earlier and being summoned before descending to that filthy place. Undoubtedly, doing so strengthened her enough to survive. Still, when she finally hit the bottom of that disgusting place, she found herself deep in poisonous mud and surrounded by abhorrent fire-breathing bugs. She felt absolutely hopeless. Everything about the place was pitiful, repulsive, and grotesque, and she craved nothing more than to find the Bell and get out, never to return.

Another bonfire gave her brief relief from the mud, but cold darkness was creeping into her very soul, and with it, the apathy and unpleasant feelings were slowly coming back.

Blade remained in the spot for a long time, absently looking at the flames while covered in slime, blood and poison stains. She had somewhat gotten used to the feverish tremors and the inability to focus her gaze. Still, she'd had to remove her helmet to puke when it reached a point where she couldn't take it anymore, flopping to the ground afterwards. She couldn't even vomit more than bile, remnants of Estus, and blood, having eaten nothing since before travelling to the Undead Asylum. She didn't seem to need it, so she just kept going based on determination and souls alone. No one ate anything at the Asylum, so this was the first time she considered that fact. Perhaps it was simply yet another sign of her messed up state, and it was pathetic that she remembered it in the most stinking and disgusting place she had ever seen or heard of.

There wasn't much that could faze her at that point. Not even the crazy woman that invaded her world, practically naked other than the sack covering her head, wildly trying to kill her with a machete. Blade thought she could very well be the next one to lose her mind and try to kill others. If there were gods left and this was their land, why did they allow their own people to rot and lose their sanity? Why let that pustule grow at the foot of the walls, where the sun or clean air would never reach? Were they hiding deep within the inner city walls, or were they completely gone? Why didn't they do anything? How was their own city, a testament to their superiority over Mankind, so painfully sick? Did they deserve any kind of veneration, even?

Blade killed, died, suffered, lost her will and found it again, but she couldn't wrap her head around the meaning of the macabre game they were all unwillingly playing. She was undoubtedly curious and wanted to know if it was possible to overcome the Curse and find answers to Humanity's downfall, but she could only take so much before drowning.

Despite how hard and painful it was, she put aside her doubts as best as possible and kept sinking her feet into poisonous mud, towards some thick pillars supporting the buttresses against the wall. She tried not to be seen by the obese Hollow sand insidious mosquitoes around. Whether she succeeded in her pilgrimage or not, surrendering and giving up to despair wasn't what she had in mind. She hadn't given up at the Asylum and wouldn't do it now either. So she had to keep going.

A crouching figure caught her eye, someone sitting next to the same stone base she was hiding against. Blade hesitated but made herself known, clearing her throat. The stranger was an eerie individual, hard to see in their long, black robes, and it was bizarre to see them sitting down on the dirty and slimy ground.

"Hmm… A mere Undead, yet you can see me? Fascinating…" said a vibrant female voice from inside the hood. “I am Quelana of Izalith. I am not often revealed to walkers of flesh. You have a gift. Are you, too, one who seeks my pyromancy? Like Salaman?"

Blade frowned inside the helmet, instantly feeling like she should measure her words. This didn't sound like the average pilgrim, whether it was merely insane or not.

"I've come looking for a Bell," she replied in a low, cautious tone.

"Hmm. A pilgrim? The Bell. Of course. If you didn't have any attachment to the Flame, we wouldn't be talking, so there must be something else," Quelana of Izalith said, sizing her up from within the hood.

If there was, Blade wasn't aware of it. But the claim came from a woman wearing a creepy outfit in a poisonous lake, scarcely concerned with the dangerous environment filled with murderous creatures, contaminated air, and toxic mud. It was abundantly clear that this wasn't someone to be insulted; she could feel her suffocating aura of authority even in this decrepit circumstance, and she didn't really like it.

"Sorry, but I have no ambitions regarding pyromancy," Blade said, shifting from one foot to the other. "I just want to go my way and ring the Bell."

"That's going to be a challenge. One of my sisters, Quelaag, guards the way," Quelana quietly warned. She looked at her sideways as if considering something. "I can feel the Flame reacting to your cursed body; perhaps that is a sign. But be careful. The Flame can devour you, more so if you are blind to it."

Blade frowned at those unflattering words.

"I only trust my strength and my steel, that's all," she resolutely said. "If your sister doesn't let me through, I'll have to fight her."

She expected an adverse reaction from Quelana; it would have been logical. After all, she was making clear that she would face that sister of hers in combat if she had to, but Quelana only shook her head with a certain sadness. For a moment, Blade felt she was standing before a vision belonging to a harsh and dramatic past that she barely understood, lost and melancholic, and a pang of sadness pierced her chest.

"Maybe an Undead like you, cursed and ignited by resolve and enough souls, may be able to bring peace to my mother and sisters," Quelana said, almost to herself. "A strange turn of fate, but if so, I beg you to free my family from their torment. The anguish that consumes them is already… enough."

Weighing in on Quelana's ominous words, Blade took a deep breath. It wasn't exactly what she wanted, to be seen as a petty murderer empowered by souls or a lowly killer ready to settle family quarrels, but she guessed their interests aligned at the moment. She gripped the shield tightly, following the direction in which Quelana's gaze pointed, towards a mound with giant cobwebs and roots tangled along its slopes. She didn't know if any of what that woman said was remotely true, but it didn't really matter whether it was or not.

Without another word, Blade nodded, accepting the task and going on her way until she entered Quelaag's lair. The egg-laden men at the entrance weren't much of a welcoming sight, but they let her through.

She was ready to fight.

Quelana's sister no longer resembled whatever she had looked like before her downfall. It had the body of a massive and disgusting black spider and half a female human body attached behind the spider head that spewed out fiery lava. The Phantom of the half-naked, brutal woman who had invaded her previously, for some reason, relentlessly helped her defeat her and proved to be a decisive element against Quelaag. She would recklessly lunge at the monster on the lava, slashing at it with her rusty machete with no concern for the pain involved. Blade just accepted it with a shrug, her clothes slightly singed and one shoulder pierced by the sword of the monstrous spider, slowly regenerating with the Estus. Some Undead were so deranged that they switched from aggressor to ally as if it was the most natural thing, it seemed, and who was she to judge anymore? She might lose her marbles one day and end up half-naked while swimming in mud, trying to murder anyone and peacefully playing tea parties later with the locals.

Even with the deranged woman's help, it was a tough fight that made her wonder several things as she stood near the corpse of the monstrosity, aching and victorious, embracing Quelaag's surprisingly powerful soul. First, what the hell was wrong with Quelana's family? Second, why hadn't she seen any other pilgrims down there? Could none of them get through Blighttown? And finally, how could a place suffer such corruption, such perversion as to twist everything in such a way, even its most powerful residents?

Extremely tired, she kept going and finally rang the second Bell of Awakening, staring wide-eyed at the fiery lands beyond the ruins. What had happened to that forgotten and scorched underground kingdom? She could barely breathe, suffocated by seas of molten lava, walking by the egg-laden men deep into prayer infesting the area. The path beyond that point was narrow, and at the end, she heard horrible roars coming from the very depths of the lava lake.

"Uh... Are you lost, Undead?" a voice croaked at her feet. A bloated man lying down, loaded with eggs. Blade nearly squealed in fright at the sight of it. "There is nothing left in Lost Izalith. Accept the gift of the Ladies or turn around."

Blade looked around in mute despair, trying to ignore the creature after seeing it wasn't hostile.

What should she do after ringing the Bells? Go back to the swamp and circle back to the surface? And then what? What was the point of ringing them, to begin with? No one had been terribly specific about it.

This was ridiculous.

What was the point of going around and suffering just to ring some bells when much more powerful beings than the pilgrims seemed to have just evaporated in defeat? It all seemed like some sort of twisted joke with vague instructions to make them suffer, but it didn't make any sense even then.

She sighed and swallowed in the sweltering heat, her shoulders slumping. The only clear thing was that she knew nothing, blindly following what little guidance she could find, and all that for what…

Blade almost jumped out of her skin when she heard the metallic sound of footsteps behind her. Her body immediately reacted, tense, reminding her of the danger of the invaders, and she turned around as fast as lightning.

"Damn… Is it hot in here, or is it just me?" Solaire joked with a deep laugh, looking around at the desolate landscape, and putting his hands on his hips.

Blade didn't know where he had just come from, but she had to admit that she was at least a little bit glad to see him. It was the first time they didn't meet as Phantoms since the incident with the kids.

Lowering her sword, Blade cleared her throat and pretended to be perfectly relaxed, something that hadn't been true from the first moment she set foot on Lordran.

"What are you doing down here?" she dryly asked. "I thought you wouldn't make it all the way down; you don't need to ring the damn Bell."

"I'm looking for my sun, of course," he replied, looking at her through the helmet eye-slits as if it were the most logical thing to say. Although Blade could only see his pale blue eyes, she was almost sure he was smiling inside the great helm. "I rang both Bells, even if I don't share everyone's pilgrimage. I wanted to know if this path led anywhere interesting. But it seems not, for now."

"For now? I don't think this leads absolutely anywhere unless you learn to walk on molten lava or swim through it," she scoffed.

"Ah, hah, you never know!" Solaire said with a roguish laugh. He looked back at the exit that led to the remains of the Bell tower and Quelaag's domain. "Sen's Fortress should open for those who ring the two Bells of Awakening, and from there, they say it's possible to reach the mighty Anor Londo. It would be wise to head to the surface, seeing that this is a dead end for now. I have a feeling my sun might actually be in Anor Londo."

Blade shook her head at the delusional bullshit about that sun. Of course, she wasn't so ruthless as to argue with him about the only thing that seemed to motivate his whole existence, but it still was an unmitigated absurdity.

"Well, do tell me, how do you happen to know all of that? It must be part of some prophecy I've missed, no doubt," she derisively said.

The knight chuckled.

"I've helped many Undead. Some of them spoke of the future of their pilgrimage, of Sen's Fortress and Anor Londo. We should go and…"

"We should? As in both of us, together?"

"Our worlds are anchored right now, and time seems stable enough, so we can take the opportunity and cooperate. I found a shorter path to the surface that doesn't go through Blighttown," the knight said, adjusting the strap of his shield behind his back and placing a hand on his belt, ready to go.

Blade fell silent, assessing the situation. Punctual help was one thing. Travelling together was another. They were supposed to face this each on their own, but at the same time, refusing another travelling companion's strength was stupid. The pragmatic unwritten rules of pilgrimage and the existence of the Undead had pros and cons, and there was nothing to lose by trying to bend them for once and have a temporary companion. If something terrible happened to the knight on his own, she would be equally annoyed, whether she liked it or not, so she might as well watch his back for the trip back to the surface. Blade wouldn't fool herself into thinking that she didn't care at all; it was too late for that. That stupid man had made his worth well known, so she worried for mere practicality even if they weren't friends. She also had to admit that loneliness seemed to be eating her up, so even if he was grossly irritating instead of grossly incandescent, it might do her good to at least stop speaking to herself.  

"Okay," Blade conceded, holding a warning hand as the knight triumphantly puffed his chest. "But I don't want to waste my time. So we'll focus on making our way and getting out of here. Andre may know if that information about Sen's Fortress is true."

She headed back into the tunnel, hearing his rushed footsteps behind her. Barely turning her gaze, she saw Solaire walking beside her, looking at her sideways with a stiff posture.

"Why would I lie?" he asked her, as if slightly offended.

Blade snorted. Well, that would be a first.

"I didn't say you were lying. I want to ensure I don't head out to some horrible place for nothing. So don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he morosely inquired as they climbed the stone stairs towards the Bell.

"I can't even see you, but I'm sure you're looking at me like I kicked you right in your knightly honour," Blade said. "I may not be a good person, but I don't speak out of pettiness. It’s pragmatism."

"You're certainly not a bad person," Solaire contradicted. "I know you've been helping others and have compassion in your heart, even if you pretend otherwise. I know you haven't taken the easy way out of hurting vulnerable people to get stronger. In fact, I think you could be a Sunlight Warrior and see your worth more clearly. I can see when someone has a reliable and good heart."

Blade frowned, torn between being flustered or angry. She was partly embarrassed by the knight's endless kindness, somewhat unwilling even to consider that version of herself, but more so by the fact that he saw her that way. She was another selfish pilgrim trying not to lose her mind and maybe meet a dignified end.

"You are wrong," she said, slightly irritated. "I help if necessary, or I get something out of it, and then I go on my way and ignore everyone else. I'm not good. I'm not nice. Perhaps you have gone blind from looking at the sun because you insist on looking for something that's definitely not there."

"Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?" Solaire asked, laughing and further irritating her. "You would be a great addition to the Covenant. I am sure of it."

Blade shook her head. The mere thought of being a Warrior of Sunlight was ridiculous, totally preposterous.

"I'm afraid you're in for a great disappointment," she muttered.

"Quite the opposite."

Blade couldn't help but let out a dry laugh at his words. One day he would absolutely see that she was too far gone. The world was no longer a place to be vulnerable and altruistic. Not everyone could be like him.

One thing she could appreciate about Solaire was his earnestness and diligence once he was on his way. He was attentive and faced any enemy with brutality and efficiency that differed from his kind personality and bright spirit. He made perfectly clear that he was a reliable travelling companion and fully understood the cruelty of the outside world, even if it seemed to make no dent in him.

The knight didn't object to her request to detour so she could have a few words with Quelana, something she didn't have to do but seemed appropriate after killing her sister. Blade found her sitting in the same spot, so she approached while Solaire waited at some distance away, giving them space.

"I'm sorry," Blade said, kneeling beside Quelana and handing her Quelaag's insect-legged sword.

Quelana took the sword, lovingly running her hands along its dark, pointed surface. Blade spotted strange burn marks on her fingers but refrained from looking at them too much or asking, assuming it was due to handling pyromancy.

"So that's it. One of my sisters is finally resting," Quelana said, taking a deep breath. "I owe you a few words of explanation and gratitude. My mother, the Witch of Izalith, was one of the primaeval Lords. Her power came from the soul that she found near the First Flame. She focused this power to light a flame of her own, but she failed to control it. The Flame of Chaos engulfed Mother and my sisters and moulded them into deformed creatures. Only I escaped, and now I am here... Mother's ambitions were misguided, no doubt, but surely a thousand years of atonement is enough! For that... Thank you for terminating my sister's pain, and I beg you again to do the same for the rest of my family if you find them in the future."

Self-conscious and feeling a strange weight on her chest, Blade didn't know how to face those words of great glories and tragedies, of the fabric of the very world and raw vulnerability. She had been unendingly questioning the Gods' absence, and now it seemed they were, in fact, deeply affected by the same misery that gnawed mere mortals, at least some of them. And it was pretty terrifying.

She swallowed and took a deep breath.

"Goodbye, Quelana of Izalith. I hope I never set foot in this place again, but if I venture deeper and find them, I'll remember this," Blade promised with a certain solemnity.

She wasn't particularly good at being solemn, never had been, but for Quelana it sufficed. The woman nodded, her face mostly hidden by the shadow of the black hood.

Knowing that despite her desperate words, Quelana was only interested in dedicating her time to pyromancy and those who handled it, Blade went back to Solaire and set off again. The knight didn't ask about it; he simply led the way through the muddy and sickly terrain, choosing the shallowest areas, which Blade was grateful for. They soon came to a vast, dilapidated mill whose blades moved a chain of poorly built platforms. Blade nearly fell under the weight of her sword and shield while jumping to one of the platforms, but they both managed to make it, stair after stair, platform after platform, into less foul and stagnant levels, closer to the surface.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in the air of the narrow canyon as if it were the first time in her life that she used her lungs.

Blade looked up at the sky. Then, with indescribable relief, she removed her helmet, letting the air dry the sweat on her face, and smiled without even realising it. The various necessities and pleasures of life might be mostly unnecessary as an Undead, but the more Humanity she retained, the more she yearned to revel in such things.

Solaire was at her side, silently waiting with his expression concealed thanks to the helmet. After a few seconds, he directed his gaze to the wooden plank that served as a bridge between the two parts of the canyon. It didn't inspire much confidence, but the valley was so closed that there was hardly any distance between one side and the other.

"We should be approaching Firelink Shrine's area. That door could be our way up," he said, pointing to a barred door on the other side, against some stone ruins jutting out of the natural rock.

"Let's go then. I need to rest properly," Blade said, putting her helmet back on.

They were about to fully cross the planks when something screamed horribly in the distance, rumbling against the canyon walls. They immediately tensed up, but nothing seemed to advance towards them after a few seconds of silence and no sound other than the softly blowing air and the distant rumble of a river at the bottom of the canyon. Or so they thought, for their attackers glided down from the highest ridges of the steep valley. Winged beasts covered in blue scales swooped directly at them, drakes of medium size but with terrible strength, apparently capable of shooting lightning rather than spitting fire.

Blade tried to cover herself, but one of the beasts collided with her, and the bolts hit her body, burning her insides. She didn't have time for anything before something rumbled down the path they had just left behind, howling furiously and slamming Solaire with a club, then trying to get the drakes. One of the fat Undead from Blighttown had followed them, and it seemed especially frantic.

It finally pushed them down the narrow chasm, striking again, first at Solaire and then at her. For a few seconds, Blade just fell through the air until she hit a ledge and continued to tumble down the steep stone slopes, falling again several more feet to land in what was unmistakably a furious river. She would've preferred to die as soon as possible to avoid pain or agony, but she had no such luck. She was dragged and battered by the water until she ran aground against some rocks, desperate for air after being submerged countless times. Using all her strength, she clung to the rocks, noticing how her shield arm had been severely fractured as soon as she tried to put any pressure on it.

Starting to think she wouldn't make it, she suddenly felt something grabbing hold of that same arm. She cried out in pain as soon as they pulled on her, finally being dragged into a small pool protected from the current behind the rocks. Coughing, she cursed and tried to wriggle free as she sank to her knees into the stony shore, finally released and limply falling to the ground. She heard someone crashing to the ground near her, breathing just as heavily as she. Finally catching her breath and spitting water, she peered through her sodden lashes. She quickly spotted Solaire lying on his back, his broad chest frantically rising and falling. Good, he made it too.

Luckily the cries of the beasts above them were receding.

Blade tried to get up, but as soon as she did, an excruciating wave of pain rocked her body, forcing her back onto the ground. She was sick of falling to death and breaking her bones, and only sheer stubbornness and rage allowed her to turn and pull her broken arm from the shield grips.

Face up, Blade clumsily removed her helm and reached for her flask of Estus, thankful that the cork had kept the liquid safe. Bringing it to her lips, she almost choked on it, forcefully setting it aside and deciding to ration it instead of getting greedy.

Feeling how her arm was slowly healing with the well-known pleasant and, at the same time, uncomfortable sensation as always, Blade sat up and ran a hand over her face, uselessly trying to dry it. She certainly hadn't expected to suffer such a final surprise, but it suited the horrible place to kick her out violently instead of just letting her go.

She turned her head and noticed that Solaire was still lying down, which worried her somewhat. He should already be moving or saying something. Groaning, she painfully laid on her elbow to reach him and shook his arm until he turned the helmet towards her.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I don’t think so. I can’t move," he replied, his tone as heavy with exhaustion as hers. He raised his head, looking at himself through the great helm eye-slits and raising one arm a few inches as if it were terribly heavy, only to drop it after a few seconds, letting out an annoyed sound that echoed inside the helm. "I'm afraid my legs are useless too."

Holding back the unpleasant feeling growing in her chest, Blade tried to keep calm and remember that it was reversible, thanks to the Curse. She crawled over to him on the ground full of round pebbles and studied him, looking for his Estus flask.

"Where is your Estus? Don't tell me you… Oh."

The flask was crushed and shattered below the knight's right side. Some shards cut through the surcoat and into the chain mail, and there was a good pool of blood underneath him.

"What?" Solaire eagerly asked, raising his head again and looking at Blade's pale expression. He grunted at the sight of the blood and the crushed vial, dropping his head back to the ground in frustration.

It was clear that, for some reason, he had lost the mobility and feeling of most of his body, so Blade was even more glad that she had not drunk all of her Estus at that moment. Seeking to ease the situation as much as possible upon noticing the knight's uneasiness, Blade first made sure to remove every visible piece of glass and then stopped the bleeding by pressing a piece of cloth from one of her bags onto the wound. She wasn’t so brazen as to do any of this trying to remove his armour, but at least this would help for now, and Estus closed and disinfected wounds much more efficiently than her. Luckily the chain mail seemed to have stopped any glass from sticking inside, so she left it to heal and picked up her flask, holding it out to him.

"I still have some Estus left. How did you pull me to shore?" she curiously asked.

"I don't know. I bent my neck under the water when the current dragged me, and I hit my head against the river bed, but I could still move. When I reached the shore and pulled you, I didn't feel anything anymore and fell to the ground… well, and on top of the Estus flask, it seems," he dejectedly said. It was strange to see him in that situation and in that mood, but at the same time, totally legitimate. He turned his head towards her, looking at the flask. Again, he tried to raise his hand to catch it, but it fell down. "Whoa, damn it..."

"It's okay," Blade said, briefly smiling and moving closer to his head. "Didn't you say that we all need help sometimes? Well, now it's my turn to return the favour. Remember the Depths?" He made a vague affirmative sound, but Blade stopped with a sudden wave of nervousness as soon as she realised he still had the great helm on. Obviously. After all, the knight had never removed his helmet in her presence, and she ignored whether it was because he didn't want to or because he had something to hide. Maybe some terrible deformity, ugliness or perhaps he preferred faceless anonymity? On that occasion, though, he had no choice. "Uhm… I need to… remove the helmet."

Solaire stayed silent for only a few seconds, looking at her with his light eyes from the darkness of his great helm before gently nodding. Taking a deep breath, Blade set the flask aside and placed a hand on either side of the lower part of the helmet, careful not to touch the skin radiating warm heat beneath. She furiously tried to push away the restlessness aside and focused on carefully pulling the armour piece, avoiding further damage to his spine. It wasn't a big deal. She was just taking off a helm from an irritating man who needed it for practical reasons, and surely he hadn't had so much trouble doing the same thing when she had needed it.

Blade quickly answered her own previous questions when she looked straight into Solaire's pained expression. No, he wasn't hideously disfigured, though it would've been irrelevant, living in a world where the last thing an Undead could afford was vanity. As for ugliness, it clearly wasn't a problem either. Even with the dirt that tainted them both after their descent into Lordran's sewers, he had quite a handsome face with a strong jaw, a straight nose, and a bit of stubble. His hair reached just above his shoulders when it was loose but was tied in a low ponytail, somewhat undone by their river dive. He had the strong countenance she had expected in a knight living a harsh life; there was nothing delicate about him, but she was sure that under normal conditions, he would show a good-natured and kind expression and his full cheeks would be used to the warmest smiles. But now, blood poured at the corner of his mouth, running down his chin; he had a fresh blow to his cheek and was practically unable to move. Seeing his pale blue eyes looking straight at her with a particular vulnerability, pain and uncertainty felt wrong.

Snapping out of her momentary but unfortunately brazen inspection, Blade picked up the flask again and tried to calm her racing heart. She had to get this over with as soon as possible.

Blade put a hand under his head, feeling the wet blond hair between her fingers and focusing on doing her job. She used her leg to support his head and brought the flask to his lips, and he drank without protest until it was empty.

"Better?" Blade asked, forgetting her discomfort and looking up as she heard more shrieks in the distance.

"Yes, thank you. Give me a moment," Solaire replied, holding out his arm in the air with more stability, making a fist and slowly moving one leg. "Much better!"

His strong voice outside the helmet made her feel something strange, warm, rising in her chest. It was weird, but it seemed more real, with a different depth. Blade looked back along the narrow bank, trying to distract herself and looking for a place where they could get out of sight and rest. A few stones were sticking out of the hillside, forming a cave with a narrow entrance. That could do. Anything but standing on that shore with the knight laying his head on her.

"We have to get out of here. I don't want those things jumping on us again," Blade said, getting on her knees and helping him slowly sit up.

As expected, Estus enormously helped, and Solaire held on without much trouble. He picked up his helmet from the ground as she wrapped his arm around her shoulders, grabbing his hand and using all her strength to pull him to his feet. Huffing, Blade walked with him towards the cave. He wasn't exactly a lightweight.

Thankfully, the cave had plenty of room, but it was a little shallow. Blade helped Solaire to a sitting position and, as he had done back in the Depths, went back for their things while he waited for her. Unfortunately, they didn't have a fire, which made Blade rethink her refusal to learn pyromancy, but at least they were out of reach of the blue drakes.

Hesitantly, Blade sat down at a distance from Solaire, watching him from the side in the dim light. His eyes were closed, his head resting against the jagged rock wall, and his expression still reflected some pain. But it would surely pass. The Estus would fully repair his body with some time.

After several hours, Blade awoke, cold and confused. Her armour was soaked, but she was so exhausted that she drifted off anyway at the first opportunity to close her eyes.

Blinking while slowly adjusting her eyes to the dim light, she turned her gaze to Solaire, hoping to see him better. Instead, she saw him awkwardly slumped on the ground, visibly shaking.

Alarmed, Blade jumped to her feet and crouched beside him, her heart pounding in confusion. Why hadn't the Estus done its job? Even in the dim light, she saw that he was deathly pale, with worrying shadows under his eyes and stiffly clutching his side. Blade moved to that side, forcing him to remove his hands to ensure no crystals were left and he wasn't bleeding either. So what the hell was going on? The Estus had surely closed his wounds.

"Hey, knight, look at me," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving him a little shake. He barely opened his eyes, and something told her that he wasn't fully conscious even opening them. "What is happening to you? Hey! Don't lie down! Why didn't you wake me up if you were getting worse?" Again, there was no answer. The man just kept trembling and breathing heavily. Blade cursed, restless and more worried than she had ever expected to be. What was the worst that could happen? If he died, he would return to the last bonfire near Izalith, terribly far away, without Estus and surrounded by enemies. That if he even revived. "Damn, what do I do now? I can't drag you all the way up. Wake up!"

Blade hated how harrowed her voice sounded, and she shook him again, grabbing his shoulders and looking up at him. He muttered something incoherent.

She couldn't stay there and wait. So whether she thought she could make it or not, she would get him out of there. As far as she knew, he could’ve been poisoned somehow, or maybe the Undead could get sick in some unknown way, but either way, she needed help.

Picking up her things, she put Solaire's helmet back on him despite his laboured breathing. Otherwise, they would have to leave it there. Then, she pushed him away from the wall and put her shield and his on his back, using absolutely all her strength to hoist the huge man onto her back. She nearly fell head first but held on by sheer determination, taking one step after another to get out of the cave and walk along the riverbank.

Luckily, she found a narrow path that followed the shoreline, even if it headed in the opposite direction from where they had come, so she followed it. The best she could do was dissociate the pain, taking her body to the limit and her mind somewhere else.

She just kept going, carrying everything like a soldier carrying his partner off the battlefield. She couldn't give up. He wouldn't have done it in her situation.

Chapter Text

Climbing the narrow path running up the ledges of the canyon, Blade lost track of time. Tears of exertion clouded her eyes, her lungs were on fire, and she felt as if her legs were going to snap in half with every step. Still, she kept walking. Even if the canyon went on and on, even if she didn't know where she was going or how to get back to the Firelink Shrine. There was no room for weakness. She had to keep moving. She only stopped when she spotted a stone bridge leading out of some giant gates cut into the rock, hearing more drakes. Bloody drakes.

Knowing that she didn't have much more strength left to carry Solaire, Blade hid as best she could. However, she could not make her way back without being spotted nor cross the firmly closed dark gates beyond the bridge. So instead, she headed toward a small entrance hidden in the ledge, nearly crying with relief when she saw that it led to an old elevator.

For once, luck was on her side.

The platform went up as soon as she stepped on the elevator button, and she just kept repeating that they were almost safe, like a mantra to avoid collapsing. Yes, they were nearly there. She didn't know exactly what was the safe place she was desperately looking for, but it had to be somewhere.

Solaire hadn't moved for a long while, incoherently muttering under his breath from time to time, which was certainly a worrying sign. Perhaps she should've let him die to avoid such pain, but she couldn't take the risk, not even if that's exactly what she would've wanted in his situation. For starters, she wouldn't let him go back alone from the deepest parts of Blighttown now that they'd settled to help each other, not without Estus and with an unknown ailment that perhaps not even death could totally purge. Not while their worlds and timelines were still in contact, and she could do something about it.

They went through a dark tunnel, and in its deepest part, when Blade was about to fall on her knees, the cosy light of fire seemed to illuminate her whole existence. She tapped Solaire's arm, dangling over her shoulder.

"Look! We made it," she breathed out.

She finally collapsed with Solaire on top of her, pushing him aside and taking the shields from his back. She removed his helmet again, this time with more confidence, feeling a twinge of worry at the sight of his blue lips and the faint sound of his shallow breathing. Carefully, she laid him against a wall and filled her Estus flask. Then, back at his side, she held his head steady, opened his mouth with her gloved hand and poured out the warm liquid on his lips until he swallowed, coughing. When he refused and tried to weakly push her away after drinking more than half the flask, Blade pulled his hands away and gripped his chin tighter, ignoring his instinctive urges to remove whatever was choking him. She'd rather have him slightly choking on Estus than dead.

To her immense relief, the man was regaining some colour on his face, so she silently thanked whatever gods might be left in the world and released him, leaving him to catch his breath. Finally, she plopped down near the bonfire, stretching and grunting as her muscles protested in pain. It felt like it had been ages since the last time she could catch a break. At least they would no longer return to the Depths if they died, and if their worlds separated, he would still be safe.

"How did we get here?" Solaire's raspy voice asked from behind her, making her jump in surprise.

Blade looked at him. He looked way better despite the paleness and dark circles under his eyes. He was obviously confused and probably tired, too, but at least he was already looking more aware and further from the brink of death.

"I had to carry you from the bottom of the canyon with all the equipment. You got very… ill. Luckily I found this bonfire, but I don't know where we are. What I know is that now you're going to walk by yourself," Blade said with a light tone, showing that she wasn't seriously upset at the situation.

Because he didn't have the helmet on, Blade could see the puzzlement written on the knight's face.

"You did? I... thank you, I appreciate it, Blade. I didn't expect that," he admitted, with a certain amount of perplexity that made Blade feel slightly miserable for giving the impression that she would leave a companion to agonise and die alone. She had asked for it with her attitude. "There's something wrong on my left side. I didn't see that brute coming, and he hit me right in the ribs. Then I also fell on top of my Estus on that same side. Lucky me."

"The club might've had some kind of poison in it, and the open wound made it worse," Blade assessed.

"Makes sense. And if so, the Estus won't fix it. It will only postpone it."

"A weird merchant sold me some mosses that helped me with poison before I went down into the Depths," Blade said, remembering the pair of unpleasant vendors in the Burg. "I've spent all of it, but we can find more or buy them. It seems that time is stable for us for the moment, so as soon as we rest for a while, we continue."

Solaire nodded, heavily exhaling and settling back, apparently enjoying the pleasant warmth of the fire. The fact that they were near a bonfire would hopefully delay the effects of the poison as well.

The knight looked at her way more intensely than she was comfortable with, so she looked away into the flames, wondering with slight irritation why did that man make her so uneasy. It was just at times, but still. It made no sense. He certainly wasn't a threat.

"I miss the sun. I think I've spent too much time in tunnels," Solaire said.

Blade rolled her eyes.

"Of course you do. Well, stop looking for your sun in the darkest and most putrid places, and you'll be good."

"I must search everywhere. You never know," Solaire replied, obviously in better spirits. He weakly smiled, and his smile was as genuine as she'd imagined; an easy, warm expression that she could only tolerate for a few moments before looking away with that strange reaction buzzing inside her. "One can find things as magnificent as the sun in dark places. It is the nature of disparity."

Blade shrugged at his crazy notions, sure that the only things she ever found in those places were misery and pain.

"Whatever you say, but be careful. I won't always be there to carry your ass up the steepest paths known to Humankind," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You know? You should owe me a big one, but I still have to repay my debt for your help at the Depths. If not, you would turn from knight to pack donkey in the blink of an eye."

Solaire laughed heartily at her words. Blade couldn't help but chuckle, too, trying to hide it.

"If you want me to carry you on my back, you just have to ask! I usually only take pushy children, but I can make an exception for you when I get better," the knight said with a warm smile.

Blushing, Blade kicked him in the leg with no real intention.

"Shut it. Stop laughing at me."

"I laugh with you, and I'll take it as a win."

Blade didn't know whether to punch that self-satisfied expression out of his face or beat herself up for the feelings stirring within her usually numb chest. Finally, she just made a dismissive motion in his direction.

"Whatever," she defensively said.

"Don't worry; I won't tell anyone."

"Come on, you look healthy enough to pester me relentlessly, so let's go," Blade said, getting to her feet and picking up her helmet. She saw Solaire doing the same from the corner of her eye, and he looked noticeably better, even though he would likely decline again soon. Making sure he was ready, she faced the man who seemed to exist to torture her, feeling less uncomfortable now that he was once again behind his great helm. She brushed past him and poked a finger where his forehead should be under the helmet. "Come on, Buckethead. Let me know if you're feeling sick again. If our worlds get separated, I'll drop the summoning sign."

Solaire gave a dry laugh.

"Understood."

From the first time he looked at her, Solaire knew she was fueled by extraordinary determination.

Blade clearly wasn't Hollow, perfectly lucid and non-aggressive, but quickly put him against the cold and impenetrable walls she had built to keep the outside world at bay. Initially, she was unwilling to accept companionship, and he was okay with that. However, beneath those piercing hazel eyes was so much more. He saw things she likely wasn't aware of. Buried, bright things shoved under pride, pain and fear. So he decided to help her anyway if she allowed it.

Solaire had seen all kinds of people suffering the Undead Curse. Good people became cruel, cold-blooded people who tried to do better, cowards standing up for the weak and heroes committing the worst atrocities. Friends turned against him and tried to kill him, strangers with nothing to gain, giving everything to help, families destroyed from within, and others without blood ties bloomed amid misfortune. Despair and madness assailed each person differently, and he had sworn to help anyone who wasn't outright aggressive or evil at the moment, for that was all that mattered. The past and future were as fickle as human nature amidst Undeath's chaos.

Blade had the defensive and proud attitude of someone desperately trying not to get hurt. Her cold words, blunt attitude trying to push him away, and refusal to open up in the slightest were a testament to her vulnerability. She wasn't as ruthless as she believed. That didn't stop her from genuinely thinking that everything she did was a cynical representation of her selfish character, but she continually contradicted herself with her actions. It was almost as if she wanted to convince herself that she deserved nothing more than pain and loneliness, as if playing a self-imposed role so she could avoid the pain of knowing the world was mangled and unfair. And that bothered him more than her sharp tongue. He was sure that she had potential and a strong heart under that facade, full of sorrow and compassion that she fervently denied.

Over time, Solaire started to notice that she no longer avoided him. His friendly approach no longer seemed to constantly put her on the brink of a nervous breakdown, and his talkative nature and peculiar goals didn't make her frown quite as deeply. Maybe she was starting to trust him. Or just tolerate him, at least. Other Undead had similar attitudes, almost wanting to run away from him so they could sink into the indifference of solitude, while others eagerly sought him out, but none with as much duality as Blade. Sometimes it seemed that she didn't even know whether she wanted to see him or not, floating in a limbo between longing to get out of her loneliness and fearing what lay beyond. That's why he didn't expect her to accept his offer to travel together, let alone take all the trouble of helping and keeping him alive.

To be honest, he hadn't expected everything to go down so fast to begin with. It usually wasn't like that. He had come a long way and faced countless dangers, but being paralysed after falling into a river and crashing his own Estus flask with his ass was new. It was easily on top of the most humiliating things that could ever happen while travelling with a reluctant companion.

However, Blade surprised him. She tended to him, looking at him with an unexpected concern that made him think that perhaps he just imagined things. And when she pointed out that she had to remove his great helm, a nasty feeling settled in his stomach. He usually never took it off in the presence of others for the same reason that others didn't take it off in his company; habit and safety. It wouldn't be the first time that something jumped from behind him, trying to cut his throat, or someone shot him an arrow or spell in the back. Since the Undead didn't have the need to eat anymore, they kept their headgear on unless it was strictly necessary, and they all got used to that faceless anonymity in a way. Being exposed to Blade's direct gaze for the first time made him feel unreasonably uncomfortable as if that mattered in the slightest.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he was suddenly distracted by something that made him forget both that and his own pain. She didn't have her helmet on either, which, funnily enough, wasn't all that uncommon for her, so it wasn't the first time he'd seen her without the helmet, nor the first time he'd thought she was beautiful. It was simply a fact that anyone with eyes could appreciate, he reasoned.

Her dark brown hair, pulled back into a bun with some loose strands, was now drenched, and plenty of hair escaped the utilitarian hairstyle. However, there wasn't any coldness in her eyes, unwillingly showing worry, deep and raw, and she almost seemed about to say something with her full lips slightly parted. Seeing her soaked to the bone and worried, Solaire thought she looked less stern. In fact, he noticed that her features were surprisingly soft when she wasn't actively trying to scowl at everything.

Solaire kept absolutely all of that to himself and let her help him, trying to focus, but it wasn't very easy when the water droplets running down Blade's smooth skin intended to take his gaze away. And that was incredibly irrelevant.

Maybe he had a concussion?

He swallowed the Estus' sweet yet sour taste, finally looking elsewhere after following one of the droplets as it trickled down her lips and chin. He knew he had to end all that nonsense as soon as that brought a sudden warmth down his chest, an unusual pull that he couldn't pinpoint but seemed out of place. That was strange, noticing something so small and being so affected while it surely was just like any other moment of camaraderie. He most definitely had hit his head especially hard.

Solaire tried resting in the cave to clear his head and get ready to leave, but he soon worsened even if he felt better for a while. He felt sick, having strange nightmares and a horrible cold pain radiating through his body. He didn't remember much from that point on, but he thought he heard Blade's anguished words through the misty waves of pain, unable to open his eyes or answer.

Why would she be anguished anyway? Such a bizarre idea.

When he woke up, he did so in a different cave, feeling better. He was near a bonfire with Blade. An unknown tension left his body, but some concern took its place at how utterly broken she looked, as if she barely had the strength to go on. And he soon knew why.

Even if she was powerful, he hadn't expected her to be able to carry him from the bottom of that canyon to the top and then find a bonfire with him as a dead weight. How had she done it? He was twice as big and a head taller than her. And she carried all the equipment too. How…?

Everything else was forgotten as soon as he saw her trying to hide a smile, her face illuminated by the warm light of the flames at something he said. He couldn't help but feel joy at how she had gone from open despise and anger to seeing her relaxed and smiling. Solaire had met all kinds of people but had never felt the amount of satisfaction of knowing that he had gradually managed to break through Blade's walls, even if just a little. He had never been so sure it was worth stocking the flames of that fiery strength within her instead of letting it sink into darkness. There was no hiding that he was fascinated by her proud stubbornness, by how she refused to bow down and fought the duality struggling within her. What had created it? Did she even remember?

After Blade made it clear that she wanted to keep going, they continued through the tunnel. Fortunately, it was wholly deserted, only to find it ended in a strange, dark forest. That made them both stop, looking at the sky. Strange darkness engulfed the night sky, and something that could be the moon ghostly shone above them. Considering the distorted state of reality, it could very well be a nocturnal space despite the eternal dusk ruling everywhere else. Still, Solaire appreciated it even if it was a poor substitute for the sun. After what seemed like an eternity confined underground, everything was better than not being able to see the sky.

The place had a certain beauty, with fireflies floating around, old trees plunged into darkness, and the sound of nocturnal insects all around them. The air was clean and refreshing, but like all places in Lordran, it was infested with enemies. However, it wasn't in their plans to face the crystal golems or get close to the many-headed beast in the lake, so they skirted through the forest and followed the path leading to the far-off stone walls of Lordran.

Just as they were about to reach the forest edge, Blade stopped short. She lifted her bastard sword from her shoulder and aimed the tip between some trees, readying her shield. Solaire stopped behind her, watching with his hand on the hilt of his sword, but when he tried to get close, she blocked him. Confused, he was about to ask when a voice came from the bushes.

"If you're not Hollow, put your weapons down," a male voice warned.

"Why don't you do it first?" Blade replied with a sharp tone.

"Do as he says, or you'll regret it," said another voice, this one female, from his left.

Blade hadn't seen the armoured woman posted in the bushes with a lucerne either. Solaire raised his shield and went to draw his sword as all the tension burning in the darkness of the forest seemed to dissolve in a single instant.

"Solaire?" the woman with the lucerne asked with relief, lowering her weapon and taking a step closer despite Blade, who aimed her sword at her and made her stop dead in her tracks. The woman raised her hands and pushed up her helmet's visor. “It’s us, Arnulf and Darelle!”

Solaire lowered his shield, letting out a breath and a relieved laugh. He didn't feel good enough to face two opponents while in the dark, so seeing that they were actually friends was the best thing that could've happened. However, Blade didn't relax in the slightest.

"I'm glad to see you! It's okay, Blade. I know them," Solaire said, but Blade didn't budge.

Moving to her side, Solaire lightly placed his hand on her shoulder, feeling her tense even more for a few seconds until she finally lowered her sword with a snarl.

Arnulf approached them, raising his visor as well, with a broad smile spreading across his pale, strong-featured face. He went directly towards him and gave him an effusive half-hug with the arm that wasn't holding his pointed shield, patting him on the back. As soon as Arnulf stepped aside, Darelle dropped her lucerne and launched at him, nearly knocking him to the ground with her effusive hug. She wrapped her arms around his neck and laughed happily, her feet dangling, and Solaire laughed softly as well, hugging her back before setting her back on the ground.

Those two were a singular duo. Arnulf came from Balder, a knight with tarnished honour who was late for his king's call and lost his companions but still set out to complete his duty. Unfortunately, time-warped reality didn't help his predicament, so by the time he reached Lordran, there was no trace of the king, and his countrymen were Hollows now, their armour rusted and their clothes in tatters. Darelle was a lowly warrior from the Fivefinger Delta. She only remembered her name, where she came from, and the reason for her pilgrimage was someone she had loved very dearly. They both covered each other's backs and behaved like brothers. They'd summoned him for help on several occasions while going through the Burg and the Depths.

Blade stood in utter silence, her expression hidden by her helmet. She probably wasn't terribly comfortable around strangers after the initial tension, but she seemed resigned to waiting without a word.

"I'm so glad to see you," Darelle said, smiling and looking him up and down and gesturing toward Arnulf. "This one was driving me crazy."

"Don't listen to her. We hadn't been able to anchor our worlds since we went down to Blighttown, and she hasn't shut up since we got back together. She's the one driving me crazy," Arnulf growled, pushing Darelle away.

"Ugh, you are unbearably boring. Good thing we found Solaire and… Who is your silent companion?" Darelle inquired, removing her helmet and looking intently at Blade with her piercing blue eyes, which sharply stood out against her freckled complexion, framed by a striking braided red mane.

Seeing that Blade still didn't say a word, Solaire decided to answer so as not to make the curious Darelle feel ignored. She was very outgoing and quite nosy, so Blade's morose disposition would only spur her to insist or end up upsetting her.

"This is Blade, a friend," he proudly answered. "She just helped me get out of Blighttown, but we've known each other for a while."

"Huh… Hey, are you okay? You sound tired," Arnulf asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, I'll be fine, don't worry! We just need some rest and something against the poison…"

"Poison?" Darelle interrupted, beginning to rummage nervously through her pouches. "I still have purple moss. Why didn't you say that you were both poisoned?"

"I'm not. It's just for him," Blade clarified, surprising everyone by opening her mouth for the first time since the conversation had turned friendly.

Barely giving her a sideways glance, Darelle shrugged and handed the moss directly to him with a wide smile. Solaire took it but didn't even have time to take it before something howled from the distant trees, putting them all on their guard.

"We were heading towards Darkroot Garden. There is a bonfire nearby, just by the gates leading to Artorias' Tomb. Will you join us? I don't think it's safe to stand here much longer," Arnulf pointed out.

Solaire questioningly looked at Blade. She shrugged.

"Only until you feel better. I have to go in the opposite direction," Blade muttered.

She'd already made it clear that she didn't want to lose her time, and Solaire felt terrible for being such a burden after offering himself as a capable travelling companion. He usually wasn't keeping anyone back. Of course, he was just unlucky enough to have it happen when travelling with her.

They headed towards that bonfire through steep paths and tangled vegetation, suffering an unusually humid heat ascending from the lake and the jungle undergrowth. Arnulf went first, followed by Solaire and Darelle, while Blade seemed to decide it was best to bring up the rear, whether to make sure they weren't attacked from behind or because she didn't trust their new companions, he didn't know. Solaire didn't press her about it anyway, deciding to focus on following along and answering the incessant questions from the excited Darelle about the new things they'd seen on their travels. He soon found himself sweating inside his armour due to the climb and the heat, so as soon as he felt dizzy, he decided not to wait any longer. He raised his helmet enough to eat the dried moss and swallowed it, trying not to overthink it to keep the gagging at bay.

Blade had a strange feeling that she wasn't going to get rid of the urge to push Darelle off the side of the abrupt path. Watching her fall off the cliff probably wouldn't fix anything, but it would make her feel better.

The other guy was indifferent to her, but she couldn't stand the way this woman looked at her, with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. Not to mention her incessant need to harass Solaire with endless conversations detailing her lacklustre adventures and how she seemed intent on somehow getting his attention. Or how she had thrown herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, or looked at him as if he were the only person in the world, walking way too close to him. Solaire didn't seem bothered, so maybe it was just her rotten mind making her miserable with things that weren't any of her business.

Why was the situation so profoundly irritating? She could've gone the other way and left him with these people. She had absolutely no obligations towards him, and she clearly wasn't needed anymore. It was totally unnecessary to keep going around with him. They had already given him an antidote and would accompany him to another bonfire. They had already reached the surface, and absolutely nothing forced her to stay. But at no time did she deviate from her path or say that she wanted to leave. No, she wouldn't do that until she was absolutely sure Solaire was fully recovered. There was no way she would trust other people to keep that idiot alive, no matter how much the situation irked her.

After dispatching some homicidal bushes and following a waterlogged path through the forest, they reached the gates Arnulf had spoken of. Blade looked sideways at the sealed stone door, refraining from showing her utter shock when Arnulf opened the way to a bonfire by hitting an illusory wall. She was ignorant about any kind of magic, but she didn't need to make her ignorance known, and it was the first time she had considered that such essential things could be hidden in plain sight. Seeing how naturally everyone reacted like this was common knowledge, they would surely look at her like an idiot.

"This spot is wonderful. Quiet, beautiful, and there's a stream running down the path, though the way there is very steep," Darelle said, removing her helmet and taking a deep breath, only this time, she let down her stunning red hair as well, smiling at Solaire. Again, Blade thought about helping her down with a quick push. "Maybe we should all go down. That area is usually very peaceful, and it will be good for us to cool off."

The two men nodded, and Blade simply followed them, ignoring the look Solaire gave her. He probably wanted to know if this was okay with her. No, it wasn't, but she could as well take the chance and clean herself up.

The descent was undoubtedly sharp. The reward, however, was worth it.

A serene stream of crystalline waters flowed down the nocturn forest, and they wasted no time settling in various areas to have space and get clean. Blade moved to the far side, close to where Solaire stood. Darelle and Arnulf were locked in an argument on the other side. Blade ignored them, focusing on quickly removing her armour and cleaning herself as best she could, taking advantage of the fact that some bushes and rocks were giving her much-needed privacy.

First, she stripped down to her underwear, running her hand over the icy water and cleaning everything as well as possible. Then she got completely naked and thoroughly washed every spot, covering herself again as soon as she was done. Then, with her shirt and leggings already on, she cleaned her armour. She didn't know if it would rust from the water, but she couldn't afford other products in this place.

Holding her breath, she stopped when she heard a muffled sound of pain coming from Solaire's area. She was about to just stand up and take a look but stopped, thinking that it was actually a terrible idea.

She cleared her throat.

"You okay there?" she asked, raising her voice.

After a few seconds, Solaire answered.

"Ah… Yes, of course. I was just trying to clean the wound. I want to make sure there's no more poison on my skin, and I can't really reach my back," he explained, letting out another pained sound and laughing. The absolute fool. "Don't worry. Keep doing your thing."

"Wait, I'll help you," Blade said, ignoring him. "Put something on. I'm coming out."

"I can take care of this myself; I just need to stretch a bit."

"Are you presentable?"

"Well, I guess, but…"

"Listen. I'm not letting you end up half dead again because you didn't want any…" Blade stepped out, passing through the bushes and facing the knight, who only wore clothes from the waist down, "…help."

Paralysed and actively fighting her terribly ill-concealed shock and discomfort, Blade tried to keep calm. Solaire was sitting on a stone next to the water, having removed his helmet, hauberk, belt, surcoat, robes and furry pauldrons from his upper body. He was only wearing his pants and boots, with the chainmail chausses to the side. There was nothing unusual about that; she had also removed her armour and clothes to get clean. In fact, she had asked for it being too impatient and offering help like an idiot.

An attempt was made to focus but pathetically failed at the sight of the knight's bulky torso, armed with muscles honed in countless battles, a strong chest, broad shoulders and burly arms. His physique was not one defined by vanity but rather by the need for the perfect equilibrium between fat and muscle to fight and carry the weight of his equipment. He clearly had the advantage of gaining weight and putting it to good use, far from the wiry bodies of other fighters. Now she was even more surprised thinking that she'd managed to carry him on her shoulders and also utterly confused as to why she was panicking at all. It was just a man. It wasn't like this was the first time she'd seen one without a few clothes. Maybe it was. She couldn't really remember. Not like she wanted to remember that. Bloody Curse.

Maybe the best was running away instead of staring wide-eyed at him with her cheeks aflame, her body shivering, and her mind out of control. But that was not going to happen. She already had messed up, and she wasn't going to humiliate herself any further, so she did the opposite and went toward him with as determined an expression as she could muster, ignoring his eyes on her.

Jaw clenched, she walked over and crouched beside him, seeing that he had set a rag aside and had a bruised area on his right side, from his ribs to his upper hip. The wounded flesh spread to his back, which he evidently couldn't reach. Estus had closed his wounds, but the poison hadn't allowed the area to fully heal, and his body needed time to recover.

"It's okay. It looks pretty bad, but it'll go away," Solaire said, looking at her over his shoulder.

"Hmm," Blade muttered, picking up the rag and refusing to look at his face.

She turned around and crouched on the river bank, wetting the cloth and taking a deep breath as she bought time to compose herself. What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn't even be near the man without feeling like she was about to take off running. Whatever it was had to stop immediately, and she wasn't going to give in to these absurd distractions from her deteriorating mind. Could they be symptoms of madness and Hollowing? It didn't make any sense.

Cursing that weakness, she decided to pretend it didn't exist. And at first, it worked. At least until she crouched next to Solaire again and cleaned the bruised skin. There were a few seconds of peace in her mind where she was simply doing what she had to for a companion, where he was terribly still and silent, and she made sure there was no poison left to creep back into his skin. But then she noticed the scars on his back, her mind wandering as she remembered they were also on his torso. It wasn't unusual; she had some that not even the Estus had erased, but she hadn't expected so many in the knight. Because of her foolish distraction, the hand she was using to wipe his back slipped off the safe surface of the cloth and ran directly across his skin.

It was warm and pleasant. It was subtly different from the skin of a summoned Phantom; it was unequivocally alive, firm, and smooth. Blade forgot how to breathe for a few seconds of utter panic. She shouldn't have touched him. She shouldn't be having those thoughts and losing control over inconsequential things. She jerked away as if she'd been electrocuted, trying to get her brain to work, realising that Solaire almost imperceptibly gasped and tensed at the sudden touch. Then, assuming she had hurt him, Blade felt even more embarrassed, belittling herself and angrily clutching the cloth.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, desperately trying to understand why she was making everything more complicated than it needed to be. Wasn't she pragmatic? It certainly wasn't looking like she was at the time.

"It's alright," Solaire replied, his tone as friendly as ever, even though there was an odd tension in his voice.

They were both interrupted by something impacting near Blade's feet. Instinctively, she jerked back, landing on her rear and seeing an arrow on the ground. Another flew over her head, and she uselessly raised her arms to protect herself, cursing for leaving the armour behind. Solaire narrowly dodged an arrow that would have gone straight through his neck and dropped to the ground as well, leaning on his elbows and grasping his belt, drawing his sword and hastily grabbing his helmet with the other. Blade picked up his vast round shield, which was closer to her, and went to him, taking shelter behind it while Solaire rose to his feet. Blade covered him as another arrow flew at them and broke against the shield, trying to see who was shooting at them.

They hid behind some rocks that barely gave them enough cover, and Solaire leaned out for a moment, leaving his sword on the ground while he covered himself with his shield and took something else from his clothes, careful not to be hit. A piece of cloth of various colours.

Without waiting another moment, the knight left the shelter of the stone, shield before him and one arm outstretched, grasping at something that came flashing overhead like a spear of raw electricity. At first, Blade felt only the faint electric static, but the heat turned blistering as it reached full force, and he hurled it toward the hill leading to the bonfire. Blade swore she could see every muscle tense in the man's stocky torso, shamefully struck with a strange sight straight out of an ancient story as she saw him wield the lightning bolt as if it were a mere javelin. Finally, he threw it so far away that the miracle impacted against the distant rocks while another arrow bounced off his helmet. He returned behind the rock with her as soon as he released it.

"Solaire? Are you okay?" Darelle's voice asked from a short distance away. "Arnulf went up to see if the shooter was still there. I think you got them with the spear."

They waited a few seconds in silence. Finally, they saw Arnulf moving swiftly up the path, signalling at them with his shield in the distance.

"I hope so. I saw the attacker crouching in that area," Solaire said, leaning slightly on the stone and taking a deep breath inside his helmet.

"That was pretty impressive," Blade acknowledged, sitting down on the ground and breathing deeply to ease the tension. “A peaceful area indeed...”

She ran a hand over her face and clenched her teeth at the sight of the bare-chested, helmeted knight slightly panting before her. It was one of the most absurd situations she had ever lived, but he still managed to disturb her usually adamant focus.

That's enough. This is getting ridiculous. I think I'm definitely going crazy, and the Curse is trying to rot my brain in the most absurd ways.

After a few seconds of silence, they heard footsteps heading towards them.

"It's Arnulf, don't worry!" he announced, stopping several paces away. "It seems Solaire singed the wretch pretty badly, but I think he escaped. He must come from the Forest. We shouldn't linger here much longer."

"Right. We'll make sure there's none of that poison left first," Blade said, gesturing for the knight to move. The sooner they finished and could forget about all that, the better. Hesitating for a moment, Solaire relented, still looking up the slope, laying down his shield but apparently refusing to remove his helmet again. Blade chuckled softly, thinking that he looked hilarious. She turned and looked closely at the bruised area, seeing that it finally looked clean. "I think it looks fine…"

"Hey! Are you ready?" Darelle asked, coming toward them through the bushes. She looked at them for a moment and moved to where Blade was, pushing her away without any qualms to see Solaire's wound. "Ouch, that must hurt. Here, let me help you. I learned a healing miracle that can help better than cleaning with water."

Moving away, Blade bore a searing gaze into the woman's skull. She didn't know what to do, even though she really wanted to punch her. Yet she watched with clenched fists as a warm light engulfed Darelle's hands. She watched as she rested them on Solaire's ailing side and noticed how he stayed still without flinching at her touch or the miracle. Instead, he seemed to relax as Darelle warmly smiled at him, channelling with a delicate white talisman buried between her hands. The bruised area began to fade until there was no trace except a vague redness and small scars where the crystals had cut the skin.

Solaire looked at the area with amazement, touching and testing to make sure there was no discomfort left, then looked at Darelle as she stood up, still smiling proudly at him.

"Outstanding! That was quite a useful miracle. Who taught it to you?" he asked with interest.

Blade could see how terribly pleased Darelle was, and at this point, she just wanted to leave to deal on her own with the horrible things bubbling up in her mind, the anger coursing through her veins and the shame. But she remained silent and didn't show anything on her face beyond some of the disdain she felt. She didn't need to be terribly perceptive to understand that Darelle found gratification in pointing out her value over Blade's. As if she cared who healed Solaire as long as it was done and they could go on their way.

How absurd. Blade obviously didn't care about what the two of them did or their relationship. She only felt anger at Darelle's audacity, and she'd rather never witness their interactions ever again. That's why it was better to travel alone. That's why she couldn't open even the slightest crack for other people and absurdly hoped they wouldn't reach her. People were still people during the world's end, and she'd had enough. She just wanted to go her own way and finish her damn journey.

"Petrus showed it to me. He says I'm very talented, but I still have a lot to improve on," Darelle said, clasping her hands behind her back and settling back on her heels with an adorable expression.

Solaire laughed softly.

"We all do. If you ever want to learn offensive miracles, I can teach you," he offered in his usual friendly demeanour. "Every Warrior of Sunlight ends up learning them."

Oh, look at that. She's an altruistic sun worshiper too.

"I would love to. I couldn't have a better teacher, and there's much we could learn from each other," Darelle said, giggling and taking the opportunity to shamelessly ogle at the knight's naked torso with a deep sigh.

Feeling irrationally angry and about to bite her tongue, Blade turned around, aware that she could no longer hide her ill expression. She should probably just go away and leave them alone before she cracked Darelle's skull open or made fool of herself. She was just a clueless idiot and was better far from this strange situation and her stupid urges.

"I'm going to get ready. I don't want to waste any more time," Blade announced, rushing to where she'd left her things without looking back at them.

It was totally normal for her to growl and strangle an imaginary person once she was alone, snorting and telling herself it was totally okay. It was absolutely normal. Anyone would feel stressed after that ridiculous situation. It was okay for her to be willing to repeatedly and painfully kill someone, knowing that the person wouldn't even die. The pressure and strain had been there for too long, and everything would disappear as soon as she went back to travelling alone, leaving such nonsense behind.

She jerked her armour on and strode out of the bushes toward the path up. Solaire was already fully dressed and prepared, leaning against a rock with his arms folded. She kept walking at a fast pace without looking at him, seeing out of the corner of her eye that he hastily followed her.

"We can go on our way, but there's no need to run," Solaire said with a soft laugh.

"I'm going on my own. You can go with those two," Blade said, unable to contain her sour tone.

Damn it. She wasn't going to show that this whole thing had bothered her. No, because it obviously didn't.

"What? Arnulf and Darelle are going in the opposite direction. We're headed towards Sen's Fortress. You know that," Solaire said, confused.

Why couldn't he leave her alone? She seriously needed to clear her head and get her bearings. This had been a terrible idea born out of weakness because she'd already accepted that solitude was her only option long ago.

She stopped short, looking at him from inside her helmet, slightly shaking at these irrational feelings.

Weak.

"No. We're done. I want to keep going on my own," Blade muttered, feeling a hole in her chest as she wondered why she didn't shut up and kept going, aware that she was using an unnecessarily harsh tone.

Solaire was watching her, probably in bewilderment. But, of course, he probably didn't understand what was happening. Even she didn't know what was wrong with her.

Useless.

"That's okay," Solaire said. Being better than she could ever hope for, he said it sincerely. He raised his hands placatingly, noticing her trembling hands balled into fists. "Are you okay?"

Absolutely fantastic. Now he probably thought she was going Hollow or losing her mind. It couldn't get any better than this. And the saddest thing was that maybe she was, as far as she knew.

She turned around, taking a breath and thinking about how to escape that situation without being an absolute disgrace when Lordran gave her the solution. By the time she turned back around, Solaire was no longer there. Since none of his miracles allowed him to disappear without making a sound, she supposed that the damned place had decided to separate their worlds at that precise moment.

"I hate this stupid place," she hissed, kicking a bush.

It was better that way, anyway.

She had to get out of the forest and hope that not only their timelines had been disconnected but all the others as well. She wouldn't deal with Arnulf and Darelle if she found them again.

Chapter Text

There was an unrelenting thought that kept running in circles around her mind. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get rid of it.

I shouldn't have taken my pointless frustration out on Solaire.

Blade didn't even try to convince herself otherwise; as soon as she walked away from the place, stuck again between mindless enemies and a deep solitude, she realized that she had surrendered to a visceral panic at the ridiculous idea of being discarded. But, with a cool head and her thoughts back in order, she could see that such fear didn't make any sense. Solaire clearly had many allies and friends yet had never shown any sign of pushing anyone aside in favour of others. She had let Darelle's grating attitude get to her and panicked.

It was painfully evident that she no longer disliked the Warrior of Sunlight. Despite the bumpy journey they'd shared getting out of Blighttown, she'd appreciated his company and begrudgingly admitted it was nice to have him around. Even with the annoying uneasiness that she sometimes felt around him, even if she stubbornly wanted to pretend that he was the worst thing since the Curse when he was just an upright man, even if he was too talkative and had a strange obsession with the sun. She had no right to be so unfair to him.

"He won't even be mad at me for my stupidity," Blade muttered, moving through the dark forest.

On top of that, she was worried about him wandering the realm without his Estus flask. Of course, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself; otherwise, he wouldn't have gotten this far without going Hollow. But even knowing that couldn't keep her from thinking over and over that he didn't have the same chances without Estus.

Blade had no choice but to leave all those thoughts aside once she reached the enormous, dilapidated room that loomed beyond the trees, almost hidden in the undergrowth. She took a breath and stared wide-eyed at the huge creature waiting within its ancient walls. On the one hand, it could be a good sign of proximity to the area near the old Parish since Andre had spoken of a demon guarding the lower antechamber. On the other hand, it could be any other dangerous place inhabited by a murderous creature that should be avoided. It was her best bet at that moment, however, so she got ready and faced the headless beast.

Her exhaustion was her worst enemy, and the demon's skin was hard as a rock, but she managed to pierce it with sheer force and perseverance. When the fight ended, her legs were shaking, in dire need of a proper break.

She climbed the stairs at the back of the room, nearly crying in relief as she heard the metallic rattle of anvil and hammer, her weary feet scrambling to catch up with her eagerness. Heavily breathing, she stared at the white-haired blacksmith from several paces away.

Probably sensing that he was being watched, Andre looked up from the metal he was working on, surprise flashing in his small dark eyes.

"Blade!" he said, both a greeting and a tentative test to prove she was responsive.

She didn't blame him. There, still as a statue, as far as he was concerned, she could have gone Hollow after all the time they'd spent apart. And although he was a blacksmith dedicated to his trade, Blade had no doubt in her mind that he could hold his own in a fight when the time came. She really didn't want to give him a reason for it.

"Greetings, Andre. It's been a while," she said, taking several steps and approaching the last stretch towards him.

Andre visibly relaxed when he saw that she was still sane.

"How are you doing?" he inquired, going back to work on the piece he had been occupied on. Blade took a deep breath, slumping her shoulders, and Andre started laughing at her open reaction. "That bad, huh?"

"I guess it could have been worse..."

"Looks like you need a good rest. Can I help you with anything? Your armour and weapons may need a tune-up."

"Yeah, that would be nice. Let me take off my armour," Blade said, setting her shield and sword aside and beginning to unravel each one of the armour pieces.

She wasn't thrilled about having to do it, but it would be foolish to embark on her journey without taking care of her gear. Furthermore, she wanted to share as many souls with Andre as possible. The blacksmith was surely earning plenty on his own, but there was no assurance that it would stay that way indefinitely. Not only benefit her to keep an excellent blacksmith sane, but she appreciated his company and didn't want to see him go Hollow. She didn't have the strength to pretend she didn't care when she had nothing to gain from it other than fooling herself.

"I'll upgrade all of this for you," Andre stated, appraising the pieces and refraining from criticizing their condition, as their owner was significantly worse off.

"Thank you. Take these souls. Let me know if you need more."

"Oh, thank you, lass. It won't take long; you can rest meanwhile at the bonfire. I'll let you know when everything is ready."

"Wait, keep this too," Blade said, taking out the small box in which she carried the Ember she had found in the Depths.

She saw Andre's eyes light up with joy and interest, shining like the Ember itself. The reverence with which he took it made her decide that it was worth carrying the damn thing and making sure it survived the arduous journey.

"It's a powerful Ember. It will help me greatly. Thank you for this. It's the first time someone has bothered to bring something so valuable to me. It means a lot," he said, setting it aside and looking at Blade with a wide smile.

Blade couldn't help but smile slightly, awkwardly and strangely pleased with that genuine gratitude. Then, not knowing what to say for a few moments, she scratched the back of her neck and shrugged before coming up with something that made sense.

"I'm glad you find it useful. Now… I'm going to rest upstairs."

Andre nodded, vigorously getting to work, propelled by a renewed drive and evident interest in testing the Ember. Blade left him alone, feeling both vulnerable and free without the armour. She flopped beside the bones and sword engulfed in flames at the bonfire, curled up under her blanket, and gladly drifted to sleep.

During the winter, it seemed that the sun was never warm enough, as if there was an ice barrier between it and the world. She'd thought so as a child. Perhaps the frost that covered the grass on the ground also reached up beyond the high mountains?

She enjoyed breathing that sharp, cold air. It made her feel alive. But she also missed the relief from the summer heat and wanted to think that the sun could be rescued. Maybe if she were more like her kin, tall and as robust as the mountains of her proud homeland, she could climb up there and melt that frost. So she sat for hours on the cushioned seat under the plate tracery windows of her chambers, watching and thinking about it. From time to time, she looked down at the bailey, at the massive knights in training, looking forward to the moment when she could go out and train as well, putting the tedious matters forced on her aside and fight, jump and ride. Then, just before nightfall, she escaped and tried to climb the rugged mountain passes, thinking that perhaps with enough insistence, she would awaken a flame and thaw the sun. But she never reached the top and often suffered punishments for her disobedience, uselessly risking herself.

Maybe she wasn't as big and strong as the others, but she had never let that stop her. Her father always said she was the terror of the castle ever since she learned to walk and speak, but he and the others admired and liked that, as infuriating as it was. They were proud people, so they watched with admiration as she tried to rise up against everything with a confident smile and an unwavering spirit that couldn't possibly fit into such a small creature. She always had a mischievous smile on her face, shredding her fine clothes, bossing everyone around and getting dirty, much to the frustration of her caretakers.

Therefore, when the blue-haired, grey-eyed demon arrived, when one year summer never came, they first missed her ever-present life force filling the old castle.

The images in her mind melted at that point, and only an unbearable pain remained, choking her heart. After that, the darkness threatened to devour absolutely everything, and the cold paralyzed her extremities while someone cruelly laughed in the echoing shadows.

Rubbing her eyes, Blade tried to hold on to reality. At first, she hadn't remembered anything after going to sleep other than sparse sensations, but she was starting to remember more and more. She wasn't sure if it was because her mind could free itself from the Curse while she slept, but she could no longer ignore the sights, sounds, and sensations filling gaps in her mind. None of it felt like a simple dream. But why were most of it so unpleasant?

She sat with a deflated expression, hoping it was just a bad coincidence and not that her life had been an insufferable series of disasters. Foolishly, she'd wanted to believe that things were better before the Curse, but her hope was steadily dwindling as she kept dwelling on grim memories each time she closed her eyes. Perhaps it was because she had been sinking exclusively into everything negative for too long, and her mind was giving it back.

Rising to her feet, she felt an unusual emotion when assimilating those tiny pieces in her memory as her own. They might not be the best, but they weren't the dead, terrifying emptiness they had been before. No, those scenes belonged to her, and they'd decided to return for some reason. She would hold on to them no matter how bad they were and keep looking beyond, despite the uncertainty, despite her own fear. They couldn't hurt her anymore. It was all in the past. The least she could do was accept them and put the pieces of the puzzle back together to understand herself and, hopefully, thus avoid making the wrong decisions or hurting others.

She went downstairs to find Andre resting, snoring loudly in a corner. She cleared her throat, seeing that he already had her equipment out of the way. The man woke up immediately, looking her up and down with eyes heavy with sleep.

"Sorry to wake you," Blade apologised. "Is it ready?"

"Ah, yes, yes. All set," Andre said, straightening up and stroking his beard. He rose to his feet, stretching his enormous muscles, stiff from his sleeping position, and pointed to where he had left her things. "Thanks again for the Ember. Let me know if you ever want to properly learn how to improve and maintain your equipment yourself. I gave you the tools, but I'm guessing you didn't give them much use."

Blade was about to defend herself and decline but stopped when she noticed that it wasn't a mere courtesy offer but something he genuinely wanted her to accept. So, she agreed. She put her things back on, deciding that even in a safe place, it was best not to linger unprotected any longer than necessary.

"Do you know if I should head to Sen's Fortress after ringing the Bells of Awakening?"

"Yes, that's right. And be careful there. I've heard it's an awful place, used for torture and a dire test to any warrior."

"Great… Well, I have no choice. Accept these souls," she said, holding out her hand.

"You already paid me," Andre pointed out, frowning.

"I'm not going to negotiate. I have plenty."

"Hmm. It's alright, lass. Sounds like you're trying to put me in your debt."

"Nothing of the sort. I just want to make sure you don't go Hollow," Blade said with a mischievous little smile, reminding him of his last words when she went away.

Andre smiled back, shaking his head.

"Come back soon. If you find any more Embers, remember me."

"Of course. I'm going to Firelink Shrine; I want to rest for a while before continuing, but when I get back, I'll stop by to see you."

"Then use the elevator at the Parish. You'll get there sooner," Andre pointed out.

Waving goodbye, Blade loaded her shield onto her back and shouldered her greatsword, heading up the stairs.

As she walked through the old Burg, trying as much as possible to avoid ambushes and fights with the Undead hanging around the place, Blade realized one thing. She felt terribly alone again.

It wasn't an unbearable, maddening loneliness like she'd sometimes had to endure, but an annoying murmur that reminded her that maybe travelling with someone wasn't so terrible. Maybe putting up with another person's presence wasn't such a bad thing. Perhaps it wasn't just putting up with it, in the most parsimonious sense of the word, if not enjoying certain moments of camaraderie.

Enjoy?

She couldn't remember the last time she'd really allowed herself to enjoy something that wasn't strictly momentary. Maybe she could afford to enjoy things if she could keep her head on her shoulders. If she kept hold of her panic at the things she didn't understand and pushed it aside, then maybe, just maybe, she could consider something more than just existing, fighting and dying. That sounded nice.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at the distant sun between the clouds, listening to the birds singing in the Parish courtyard and acknowledging that all those new things came from the same place inside her. At that point, she'd resigned herself to that insistent pull filling her previously empty heart seeking a worthy death, that now little by little wanted to feel things, as in a past that eluded her. She didn't know what lay beyond, and she doubted she could freely open herself to it, but the urge in her bones was eating her away and growing stronger. A voice in her mind reminded her that she wasn't letting anyone hurt her again, even if she only remembered the pain as blurry sparks in the back of her memory. However, she still craved to try even the tiniest bits of humanity without feeling panicked or weak.

She found the elevator and reached the ruins surrounding Firelink Shrine, snapping out of her thoughts. Even after sleeping, she was too tired, too confused, and a mixture of guilt and restlessness ate at her insides, mixed with the ever-present incongruous feelings. The latter came partly from the wounds reopening with her dreams and partly from her reactions after travelling with the Warrior of Sunlight, which was no doubt unfortunate. She couldn't blame everything on the Curse. Her ludicrousness was probably due to a lack of contact with other people and misperception since she had no references to infer the things she felt. Now, in solitude, she decided that even if some time alone to clear her head had been beneficial, absolute solitude wasn't the answer to all of her problems, nor would it solve anything in the long run. Pride and sourness could only help so much against the cruel world she was forced to live in.

Walking towards the fire, she was slightly startled and snapped again out of her reverie when she recognized the sorcerer she had saved in the slums of the Burg. She hadn't noticed him much back then, sweating and sore and grumpy in her armour, but he looked pretty young, with straight dark brown hair and rather innocent features despite his square-shaped head. He seemed to have been sitting among books and scrolls scattered on the grass until he saw her arrive. He jumped up and went to meet her with a tentative smile and outstretched hand.

"Oh! My saviour! I'm afraid I don't remember your name, but I'm so glad to see you," he said in a quiet yet sincere tone, slightly nervous.

"Her name is Grianach, though she seems to have forgotten it," someone said just behind her, chuckling softly.

At that laugh and raspy, deep voice, Blade immediately felt panic ripping at her insides as she spun on her heels and raised the greatsword from her shoulder. Her legs were shaking, and her peace of mind at arriving at Firelink Sanctuary totally vanished, engulfed in a sea of cold terror. She found herself face to face with a strange individual, garbed in leather and black cloth, with a single metal shoulder pad, threadbare hood, and bizarre skull-like mask. In a certain way, it reminded her of the invader wearing a corrupted Astoran armour, sullied by a black and purple substance stuck in some areas and eating away at others.

Even without seeing his face, something immediately told her that he had a crooked smile behind the mask.

"Who are you? Do I know you?" Blade coldly asked, undeterred despite the painful anxiety in her voice and the fear shaking her body.

The stranger laughed again.

I want to get out of here.

"Oh, quite intimately. But you don't remember that either, do you?" he playfully asked, crossing his arms over his chest and taking another step closer, ignoring the fact that she was pointing her sword at him. "I've been watching you for a while, little mouse. I lost track of you at some points, but here you are. Rotting from the inside out without any idea of all the sinful things you did."

Unable to say a single word, not knowing why she felt such paralyzing dread despite knowing that she could efficiently deal with this man in a fight, Blade just stood there, breathing heavily. The tip of her sword trembled as her pulse failed, her memory denying an answer to the situation. The name used by the stranger resounded in her head in different tones and with different voices, sometimes affectionate, other times determined, other times surprised, and other times in pain. She bit her lip, because she couldn't yell at him that it was all a lie.

"Sir, I don't think she's comfortable with this conversation," Griggs sheepishly said from behind her.

"Shut up, kid. I've come to talk to her, and that's just what we're going to do. Then who knows," the stranger hissed, directing the ghastly mask at Blade.

"Leave me alone," she muttered. But it didn't sound with her usual determination; it sounded desperate, with the intensity with which a child would speak to a nightmare.

"What's going on here?"

Blade nearly blew out a horrified sound as she recognized Solaire's voice, turning her head to see him approaching through the ruins.

No, no, no! What is he doing here? He had to be in Sen's Fortress. No! Why does he have to see me like this? I can't…, she thought in a panic, refusing to accept the rush of relief she otherwise felt at seeing him appear.

It was probably because of the anxiety taking over her body and making her hallucinate, but Solaire moved closer in an uncharacteristic way. He barely looked at her, focusing his stern gaze on the stranger. There was nothing friendly or warm about his posture or his voice.

"Another cowardly lapdog. Oh, Grianach, I thought you could defend yourself," the stranger said, evidently seeking to irritate or encourage her insecurity.

"Shut up and get out of here," Blade snapped, raising her sword and pointing it straight at the stranger's neck, her voice filled with venom.

"I'm not going anywhere if you don't come with me. You owe me," the stranger said, and his tone sent chills down her spine.

If she knew anything for sure, it was that whoever he was, even if he knew her before, she didn't want to be remotely close to him.

"I don't owe you anything. I don't even know who you are," she muttered.

"Oh, yes, you do. You will remember it."

Blade flinched at the sound of steel being drawn next to her, glancing sideways as Solaire drew his sword and pointed it at the masked man. There was something severe and dangerous about the gesture, and though she had always known full well that he could be ruthless in a fight, she had never seen him act like this. It was all beginning to seem like a bad dream.

"You'd better leave the Shrine and do as she said," Solaire warned. "I have no problem dealing with tainted invaders that have no place in this sanctuary, and neither will the clerics upstairs."

Blade swallowed. It wasn't an empty threat. The Warrior of Sunlight, even if naturally jolly and often ridiculously friendly, was not indolent in any sense of the word. She didn't know if Solaire knew this man, but it was clear he was suspicious of his nature and would do what was necessary to throw him out. To her surprise, the stranger raised his hands in surrender, chuckling softly.

"Fine, you sanctimonious buffoon. For now, it'll have to wait. After all, blood can't be spilt in this sacred area, right?" he said, though it was clear from his tone that this was totally irrelevant to him. He ignored Solaire and looked at Blade. "I'll see you soon, little mouse."

And without further ado, he turned and walked through the ruins towards the stairs that led beyond the bonfire. As soon as he did and was out of sight, Blade dropped her sword arm and deflated in a sigh of relief that she couldn't and wouldn't contain. Solaire put a hand on her shoulder to steady her, sheathing the sword with the other and leaving the menacing demeanour as if it had never existed. However, she didn't push him away, too shaken not to appreciate his support.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"I think so," she replied, lowering her gaze to the ground.

"Let's go to the bonfire. You can come with us, friend," Solaire offered, glancing at Griggs, who fidgeted, looking at his things on the floor, and seemed to decide it was best to take him up on the offer for now.

"Thank you, sir. I would like to thank you for your help in the Burg… uhm…"

"Blade," she quickly answered, as if someone else were going to come out of nowhere to answer for her.

"Uh…yeah. I haven't been much help, I'm still an apprentice, and I don't know how to fight, so I'd like to at least offer something," Griggs continued.

"You don't have to give me anything," Blade murmured as they sat around the fire. She took the opportunity to remove her helmet. "I was just passing by and got you out of that house. Not exactly much of a rescue."

"For me, it was. I could have gone Hollow there by myself," Griggs replied, looking at her over the flames. "I offer you what little magical knowledge I have."

Blade ran a gloved hand across her face, taking a deep breath and deciding to try her best to remember not to be an insensitive ass.

"Sorry, I have no magical talent or aspirations, Griggs. I'm sure someone else could put it to better use," she said, watching the boy's shoulders slump. "Listen, if you want to do me a favour, stay out of harm's way and keep studying your things."

Trying to hide his disappointment, Griggs nodded. Then, he stood up, smiled, and gestured towards his spot in the Shrine.

"I'm going to… do that, then. I hope we can talk again soon. Be careful in your travels," Griggs said, hurrying away.

Blade sighed in frustration, closing her eyes for a few seconds and trying to process everything that had just happened. It seemed that nothing was as easy as wanting to go to a safe place and just rest.

"I don't know how I always end up screwing things up, even if I try to do better," she uttered to herself, although Solaire, sitting a few feet away, perfectly heard her. Looking at him with nervousness she hadn't had time to feel before, Blade forced herself to face this with dignity. She straightened up and pushed her pride aside, even if she felt ridiculous. "I'm… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have spoken so cruelly to you in the forest. And don't say it's okay. No, it's not. I was an asshole, which is nothing new, but… well."

Solaire chuckled softly, shaking his head and reaching up to grasp both sides of the great helm, taking it off. She was glad to see him without being covered in blood and bruises, and for the first time, she didn't callously squash the warm feeling muttering inside her at the sight of him. Instead, she let it be, tiny and hesitant, unknown and pleasant, like a distant dream of comfort, instead of panicking and rejecting it.

"It's water under the bridge now," Solaire heartily said, smiling. "I was simply worried about the reason behind that sudden decision."

Blade didn't want to fully explain why, partly out of embarrassment and partly because she didn't know for sure herself.

"Don't worry; I'm not going Hollow. It was just a moment of stupidity," Blade settled, deciding it was better to change the subject since it was already done. "Anyways, what are you doing here? I was hoping you would've marched towards Sen's Fortress."

Solaire didn't press any further, as per usual. If there was something she greatly valued about him, is that he respected privacy. He never tried to go beyond where he had permission.

"I remembered that there was a Fire Keeper around here somewhere and thought that maybe she could give me another Estus flask. If not… well, I'm ashamed to say I intended to go back to the Burg and take it from some poor Hollow," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.

Blade chuckled.

"Why are you ashamed? It's nothing dishonourable. They are no longer aware of who they were, and it's better in your hands."

Solaire shrugged, uncomfortable.

"Not something I would normally do, anyway. What about you? Why did you come here?"

"I wanted to get some proper rest, but I don't think I'm going to get it," she said, looking away at the flames and rubbing her forehead again in frustration, remembering the stranger. "So I'll sleep for a while and be on my way, I guess."

There were a few seconds of silence and surprising peace before Solaire spoke again.

"I can keep watch to make sure that bastard doesn't come back," he offered.

Blade smiled, feeling gratitude and even some fondness seeing that he would keep watch indefinitely for her to rest, something he'd already proven he was willing to do. Not just that, but he boldly came in her defence when she had been shamefully overwhelmed by the situation with the stranger. At another time, she would've thrown it in his face out of sheer pride. At that moment, however, she accepted that it was one of the things that came with being what he considered a friend.

"You don't have to, but I appreciate it. And also that you stood by my side when that… man showed up," she admitted with a slight tremor in her voice, resting her face on one hand and tiredly looking into the flames.

She was exhausted. Too tired to pretend.

Solaire was watching her with a strange expression as if he could see beyond her and were torn between his friendly mood and a less pleasant one. Despite that, his voice was invariably kind.

"Did you know him from somewhere?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted, with nothing more to hide. "I only know that he wasn't lying about the name. And that somehow we knew each other from something utterly unpleasant."

The knight nodded, thoughtful for a few seconds before breaking the silence again.

"Do you want to use that name?"

Did she?

Grianach. The stranger had said it like a curse, as an attempt to bask in his power over her with something so simple, but Blade vaguely remembered the echo of other people saying it in very different tones. A woman, lovingly playing with her. A man, proudly, carrying her on his shoulders. A group of people, friendly, joking and full of joy. And yet she'd thought of herself as a weapon and little else for so long that she was terrified of claiming something as basic as a name.

"I don't know," she said again, nervously clasping her hands. She closed her eyes, feeling ridiculous. "Could you say it so I don't hear it in my mind in that monster's voice?"

At first, she thought his momentary silence was a clear answer, that this was none of his business. But he soon proved that those doubts and runaway thoughts were only in her head.

"I would love to. Grianach."

Gods, his voice was always so calm and soothing, like the sun gently breaking through the clouds and brushing against her skin. How had her bitter mind tricked her into thinking he was unpleasant because of his cheerful attitude? Had she been so lost in her own fear to be that foolish? No, it was the opposite of unpleasant. She knew she'd found him displeasing precisely for that reason, for being the absolute opposite, and it was ridiculous. He never raised his voice, but he always had a burning enthusiasm and inherent kindness.

She decided that the name sounded totally different. It seemed quite another thing entirely, in fact, when he said it. It wasn't an insult or a curse but pleasant and prideful.

She opened her eyes, meeting Solaire's expectant gaze.

"Sounds good, I think?" she said, still slightly unsure.

"It suits you, my friend," Solaire said, smiling gently.

"I know it's hard to change now. You don't have to use it. Blade works too," she said, giving him a loophole to escape any awkwardness and knowing it was an odd fit.

"Oh, don't you worry! I will have no problem using it if that's what you wish."

Well, it seemed she was the only one feeling extremely weird about it.

Grianach.

A woman in her memory shouted while she recklessly tried to climb a tree as a child.

Grian! You will fall, silly little thing. What am I to do if you break your neck? I can not carry you up to your chambers.

Grian, of course, she'd heard it a million times.

It was so peculiar, like a part of herself had opened up slightly, returning to life. She didn't know if it was what the stranger had intended, but she was sure that his only goal was most likely to awaken negative feelings. And she wasn't going to let him use her memories against her.

"I think most people just called me Grian", she pointed out.

"I will use it from now on", he assured her.

"So, where is the Fire Keeper?" she asked, looking at the knight with determination. With a gleam of curiosity and something else in his eyes, he pointed to the stairs going down. "I'll go with you. I think I have something that might interest her."

"Very well, let's go then."

They both stood up. Solaire picked up his helmet, tucking it under his arm, and she did the same, walking past him. Before he could walk away, however, she gently grasped his free arm, looking intently into his benevolent blue eyes, seeing in them a reflection of her own insecurity.

"Thank you, Solaire," she sincerely said, not allowing herself to shut down just yet. She could see the surprise on the knight's face. "I don't know if you hear those words enough, but you should."

Chapter Text

A set of narrow stairs encircled Firelink Shrine's main structure, embracing it like a ruinous serpent. It was easy to locate the Fire Keeper's spot on an open, grassy area before the final flight of stairs. The depressing sight of the woman locked behind bars, stuck in a dark hole, unnerved Grian, and she couldn't help but shudder at her horrible conditions. She lay on the ground, her head down, with dirty clothes and looking totally forgotten by the world.

Or, at least, for most of what was left of it.

She was surprised to see the knight she freed from a cell in the Burg, clad in a unique golden armour with carved arms hugging his chest. He was sitting right in front of the Fire Keeper, watching her intently until they arrived.

"Ahh… Hello there. If it is none other than my saviour and… the Warrior of Sunlight. What a surprise," Lautrec said, raising his head towards them. "I see that you kept your head on your shoulders."

"And I see you made it to the Shrine," Grian replied.

"Of course. I wanted to offer you something as a reward for your assistance, and now it's going to be much more interesting," Lautrec said, pulling out something small, round, and golden from his pouch, something that Grian mistook for a mere coin. He looked at Solaire, letting out a sly laugh. "Although I am sure the Sunlight Knight has already given you plenty of these... or was he too preoccupied looking for his sun? Heh... Poor fool, he lost his mind long ago."

Grian was immediately incensed at that crude attempt to antagonize Solaire. She had no idea how they'd previously met, but she didn't like his tone.

She glanced at Solaire sideways. He looked slightly uncomfortable but didn't react to Lautrec's provocation and didn't seem deeply affected. She, however, frowned, giving a murderous gaze to the man in golden armour. Grian wasn't one to speak, but she'd never wanted to attack Solaire with real spite, even in their first encounters.

"You can keep it, like your stupid words," Grian coldly replied, hearing Lautrec's uninterested grunt. He shrugged and took the coin away.

"As you wish. I would not waste my time on a Warrior of Sunlight with delusions of grandeur if I were you," he said, laughing and looking back at Solaire. "I doubt he's a real knight at all, with that ridiculous garb."

"Lautrec, listen," Grian said, pinching the bridge of her nose to find an ounce of patience and not kill the man on the spot. Sadly, she had none left. "Today is not the day to piss me off. If you don't shut up right now, we're going to have a real problem, and I'll shove that coin so far up your ass that you'll be the first man throwing up gold."

They were silent for a few moments, and Lautrec nodded, chuckling in a dark, unamused way. After that, he didn't say anything else; he just looked at them with his helmet slightly tilted menacingly while Grian stared back at him, ready to jump at the slightest provocation.

"Come on, Grian," Solaire said, breaking the tension and nodding toward the Fire Keeper. She snarled, following him but keeping her guard in case Lautrec decided to try anything. "Hello there, my lady! I am Solaire of Astora. I was wondering if you could help me. I would greatly appreciate any help to get an adequately strengthened Estus Flask. Unfortunately, I had a little accident and..."

Grian heard some shuffling behind her, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw Solaire crouching, reaching between the rusty iron bars. When she turned a little more, noting that Lautrec didn't seem intent on moving, she saw the Keeper creeping a little closer and offering a full, perfectly reinforced flask to Solaire. However, the woman didn't open her mouth or look up at him.

"Ah… oh, wait," Grian murmured, reaching out and offering the great souls she had encountered on her travels. "I don't know what to do with them. You can keep them."

The woman briefly hesitated, finally reaching out and absorbing them. As soon as she finished, she made a soft sound and gestured to Grian. Her Estus flask vibrated at her waist, warming up through the clothing and armour, but Grian allowed it and stood still, knowing that a Fire Keeper would certainly not harm anyone. Then, apparently done with them, the woman crawled back again, ignoring them.

"Thank you very much. I am in your debt," Solaire sincerely said, resting a hand on the bars, though the woman didn't seem to care or notice his words.

"Yes, we're very thankful. Let's go," Grian impatiently murmured, grabbing Solaire by the chain mail on his arm and pulling him toward the stairs.

She gave Lautrec one last hostile glance and went upstairs as Solaire inspected his new flask. She didn't want to spend another second near that man. His accent made her inexplicably nervous, and his attitude threatened to send her over the edge.

Grian and Solaire sat down again by the bonfire, leaving their helmets on the ground. She took a deep breath and pulled out her whetstone while Solaire filled his new flask on the fire, trying to calm down and enjoy at least a little peace before leaving. Andre would probably criticize her poor skills, but she did it anyway, making sure her sword was perfectly ready. Not that she doubted the master blacksmith's work, but sometimes it was better to give it a personal touch to feel at ease before a battle. Besides, it was effectively settling her temper.

Solaire took a cloth and a small oil bottle from his travel bag and began cleaning his helmet.

"You know what? This whole thing of letting people get away with affronting you has to stop," Grian said without taking her eyes from her work with the sword, allowing her irritation to get the best of her.

"There's no need to get upset over mere words," the knight said in a disaffected mood.

Grian grunted, hitting the blade harder than necessary.

"See, that's the problem. You should care, or people won't stop spouting whatever nonsense comes to their minds to humiliate you like Lautrec just did until I shut his mouth," she indignantly muttered. "That jerk… I should've let him rot in that cell."

"I'm used to scepticism and harsh words from time to time. But I'm proud of my decision," Solaire explained in his usual good spirits. She could see him smiling out of the corner of her eye, and when he spoke, it was in that tone mixing natural joviality and slight mischief as if it were all a joke. "But I appreciate your concern. I am truly honoured!"

"What...? Why are you so good?" Grian indignantly stammered. "Why didn't you give Lautrec a beating? Why didn't you get mad at me for how I talked to you back in the woods? I know I would have. Anyone would. You're too good-hearted."

Solaire took a deep breath, shaking his head.

"Oh, stop it! You'll make me blush," he jokingly replied, laughing and setting his helmet aside. Grian just huffed. "I can assure you that if I am genuinely threatened, I will defend myself as befits a Warrior of Sunlight, just as I defend others. But mockery or antagonistic remarks do not carry any weight."

"Oh yeah? What if that jerk who came after me came back and started mocking and taunting me? What happens, then? Do we sit back and let him say anything he wants?" she countered, finally giving him a stern look.

"Of course not!" Solaire immediately replied, slightly frowning and hardening his tone.

"Oh. Right. Let me guess, is it because it's against someone else and not you?" Grian victoriously said, looking at Solaire's baffled expression with a sudden desire to burst out laughing. "I'm sorry to say that's not how it works. If you don't stand up for yourself, I will. Foolish man."

Solaire deeply laughed, starting his careful maintenance of the shield and making a vague gesture of surrender.

"Ah… As you wish, my friend," he said. He reverently ran his hand over the shield's surface, over the sun pattern, and his gaze gleamed with unbreakable pride. "I have a purpose here, and the wretched words of others cannot overshadow it."

Grian just shook her head, deciding he was hopeless. Perhaps she was being overprotective as a pathetic way to redeem herself for her own failings, but still. He couldn't act like everyone was his friend or could simply be ignored. There was an ever-increasing amount of garbage amongst humanity that had no salvation and could be dangerous, such as Lautrec. She was sure the man wasn't one to hesitate before resorting to violence. 

"So, where are the children?" Grian sulkily asked, putting the sword aside and pocketing the stone.

Solaire looked at her with thoughtful sadness.

"The crow took them. They wouldn't be completely safe here, and the wise beast seemed to acknowledge it. It's not like there are many safe havens outside of Lordran, but I'm sure the bird knows some inaccessible places that could suit them. I think it grew fond of them, so I wouldn't worry," he explained, taking a breath and looking up at the high branches of the tree above them, winking with a slight smile at the sun. "I'll miss them! I hope the sun shines brightly wherever they are."

With a low grunt, Grian pulled out her blanket, unrolled it, and lay down. She didn't turn her back on Solaire but stared into the flames of the fire as he continued to tend to his equipment carefully. He put his great helm back on and began going through his inventory, opening his little bags to check what he had left after his recent travels. He then began chattering about how he had to expend several Purging Stones in the Depths and how he gave several to people who had summoned him. He seemed to have anecdotes about each occasion, remembering the names of most of the people who had asked him for help, more focused on that than the fact that the areas he had passed through were utterly miserable. He also detailed his glorious battle against Quelaag, which Grian didn't remember as heroic at all, and a brief journey through a strange area where he supposedly found a lake and tall trees sinking into the clouds.

Something about seeing him busy with small things as he chattered away was incredibly reassuring, seemingly content to talk while she listened. She barely responded to him, letting him say everything he wanted, and at a certain point that she didn't remember later on, her eyes closed, and she fell asleep. When she opened them up again, feeling like she could still sleep for an eternity before feeling fully rested, she saw Solaire sitting in the same spot, legs crossed, helmet looking up.

"Oh! You're awake. Did you sleep well?" he asked, coming out of his observation of the sun and looking at her.

"Decent enough," she said, sitting up and cracking her neck.

"Great! I'll be on my way now, then. I can't wait to get to Anor Londo," he said, taking a dreamy breath and getting to his feet. "I cannot even imagine the wonders I can find there."

Grian chuckled quietly, seeing his obvious impatience and holding back the sudden disappointment she felt, knowing they probably wouldn't see each other again for a long time. It was unrealistic to pretend to stay together with someone living in a different time, and the ever-lingering fact settled heavily in her heart for the first time. They would be continuously separated anyway, even if they were lucky enough to find each other in most areas. She was pretty sure that outside Lordran, they would most likely live in totally different periods. That was increasingly disturbing, so she didn't want to think about them belonging to separate threads of reality. She pushed those thoughts aside.

"Good luck," she said, watching him put his shield on his back and secure his sword on his belt.

He gave her an enthusiastic nod.

"Be careful. I hope to see you soon!" Solaire chirped, turning around and raising his fist with determination as he marched through the ruins.

She didn't tell him, but she also hoped to see him soon. The emptiness returned as he went away, strange, melancholic, and sadly familiar. Even if he sometimes was an irredeemable fool, she greatly preferred him to the echoing loneliness. She just wasn't ready to say such a thing out loud.

She sat there for a while, lost in thought until she heard a quiet laugh. Then, frowning, she recognized the crestfallen warrior sitting a few steps away, whom she had already been ignoring out of habit.

"Hey... You. Have you seen that terribly morose lass downstairs?" he asked, looking up from the floor and fixing his dark eyes on her. Grian only gave him a sidelong silent look. "She's stuck down there, keeping the bonfire lit. Sad, really..."

Deciding to give in to the mild curiosity of how that cowardly slacker knew anything about the Fire Keeper, Grian broke the silence.

"Yes, I've seen her. What if I help her out of there?" she muttered.

"I don't think she's interested," the man said. "She is mute and bound to this forgotten place. They probably cut her tongue out back in her village, so that she'd never say any god's name in vain. But these martyrs keep chugging despite everything. I'd peter out in an instant."

Wrinkling her nose when he started laughing like the unhinged man he was, Grian assessed whether this Fire Keeper was really insane and would refuse any help to leave the place. If that man was right, she should resent those who mistreated her instead of wanting to continue doing what they imposed on her. She would take it upon herself to find out.

Grian dropped the thought as quickly as the bonfire began to fade before her eyes, and the sense of calm surrounding the Shrine evaporated. The crestfallen man also stared at that strange phenomenon, taking a sharp breath and rising from his spot for the first time in Grian's presence. She also got to her feet, a horrible feeling rising in her chest as she watched the last embers sink into the ashes.

"What…?" the man muttered, hands shaking, looking as if he was about to try to light the flames himself to cling to the false sense of security.

"It can't be," Grian said, picking up her sword and shield and donning her helmet. She nervously looked around. "The Keeper…"

She bolted down the stairs, nearly choking on her own breath as the metal of her armour rattled with each step.

First, she saw the empty spot where Lautrec should have been. Then, she turned her gaze towards the Fire Keeper's hole. Step by step, she approached the gap in the ruins, seeing the Keeper's body sprawled against the bloodied bars, a look of terror plastered on her face. She ran the last few steps, kneeling and pulling out her flask of Estus with shaking hands. She gently grasped the woman's lopsided head, stopping at the sight of her deathly pallor, feeling the body's stiffness and knowing there was nothing the Estus could do anymore.

Grian cursed.

She wasn't coming back, like the Undead.

Holding back the rage and sorrow in her heart as she remembered the possible mistreatment the woman had suffered, Grian put her hands between the bars and leaned her body as best she could into a more dignified position. She carefully lowered her head to the ground and closed her eyes. Then, she saw something on the ground, round and small and dark. She picked it up with some reluctance, tangled in the Warden's tattered robes, and regarded it curiously.

It was a black ball with an orange eye watching her. It had a meaty appearance and was certainly creepy, but it could be the key to knowing how to find the culprit of this crime. The situation didn't leave room for doubt when Lautrec was right there. Still, she had to ensure there wasn't anyone else in the Shrine involved, and maybe someone else had valuable information.

Grian climbed murderously to the top of the Shrine, briefly glaring at the crestfallen warrior, who was now sobbing in a corner, muttering about how they would all die. She ignored him.

First, she needed to find out if the pyromancer, Laurentius, had made it out alive because he would surely harbour more profound knowledge about the Flame than anyone else. So, she searched through the ruins until she spotted his sitting figure nearby and lunged straight at him, grabbing him by the chest of his tunic and pulling him to his feet without explanation, despite his panicked expression. She tossed him towards the bonfire, pointing at it, turned around and did the same to Griggs because it would do no harm to add a sorcerer to the mixture. The poor apprentice was as astonished as the pyromancer, staring at her and back at the dead bonfire as if expecting some elaborate explanation. Neither of them moved while Grian stormed up the stairs toward the cleric, finding he had company; two more clergymen and a lady in white robes praying behind them.

The clerics Solaire had referred to when threatening that strange man, no doubt.

"Come down to the bonfire," she curtly said, seeing the incredulous faces of the religious men.

"How dare you order us around? Who do you think you are?" one of them barked, blond and haughty, raising his mace.

"It is not wise to approach someone for the first time in such a hostile and demanding manner, especially members of the clergy on a sacred mission," the one who had been there from the beginning pointed out in a flat tone.

Grian remembered how he had thrown her out when she first arrived at the Shrine, tired and confused, realizing that he didn't even recognize her from that occasion. To him, she'd been just like any other faceless stranger about to become Hollow, sunken-faced and wearing rags.

"I don't care who you are. Come down to the fire with me," Grian repeated, leaving no room for argument in her tone. "Someone murdered the Fire Keeper."

That finally changed the clerics' disposition from defensive and haughty to surprised and disturbed. They looked at each other, and the praying woman stopped to glare at them over her shoulder.

"That terrible crime must not go unpunished," she said, her voice calm and melodic. "And how do we know the one denouncing such aberration is not guilty?"

"I have witnesses. I wasn't down there when she was killed," Grian impatiently growled.

She took another step, moving closer to the woman to speak more comfortably, but the two armoured clerics immediately blocked her way.

"Do not approach our lady looking like that. She doesn't need to see your unkempt appearance up close," one of them warned with a hint of disgust.

The other individual muttered something unintelligible.

"Petrus, please accompany this pilgrim and investigate this dark atrocity. I have to focus on my mission. Nico and Vince can keep me safe," the woman intervened, turning her back on them again and returning to her prayers.

"Of course, my lady Reah," Petrus meekly replied, though Grian briefly saw a shadow of besetment crossing his eyes.

Ignoring it and seeing that the cleric would accompany her, Grian turned and walked without a word toward the dead fire.

"This doesn't look good," Laurentius thoughtfully said as he surveyed the bonfire.

"I think that's obvious," Griggs softly murmured.

Laurentius looked up at him, raising an eyebrow inside his hood.

"Then bring something that isn't to the table," the pyromancer curtly replied, making the young sorcerer lower his gaze. "No simple pyromancy or linking ritual will bring back such a powerful bonfire. It needs its Keeper. She has to get her soul back, or it'll stay dead."

"Nothing can be done with magic either... Uh... Well, not with my limited skills, at least. The pyromancer is probably correct since, in the ancient writings, a Keeper is always associated with the most essential bonfires," Griggs said, warily eyeing Grian as if fearing she would use him as kindling if he didn't give the correct answer.

"Indeed. I don't know if anything could be done without divine intervention and long-lost rites," Petrus agreed.

"Does anyone know anything about the knight in golden armour sitting downstairs? Lautrec of Carim. He conveniently disappeared as soon as the Fire Keeper was killed," Grian said.

There was a brief silence, and the cleric nodded.

"That scoundrel has been hanging around the Keeper's vicinity ever since he arrived, but I didn't think he was capable of such barbarity," Petrus said.

"He's only left this behind," Grian murmured, showing them the black ball with a yellowish eye.

They all reacted negatively, with revulsion or fear, but only Laurentius broke the silence.

"That looks like an invasion orb," he said, swallowing hard and reaching for it. Grian gave it to him, watching as the man lifted it onto his palm, moving it around until the hideous eye began to flicker and twitch slightly. "It points in one direction."

"Anor Londo," Petrus said, looking up at the high walls beyond the Shrine, toward the point where the sun was perpetually set.

"So the killer left a guiding orb? Why?" Griggs asked.

"For someone to go after him like it's some stupid game," Grian snarled, picking up the orb again and cursing. She silently evaluated the situation for a few seconds and turned to Laurentius. "You, come with me. You were closer to the bonfire before I got there. You might've heard something. I need anything you can tell me," she said, listening to how Griggs sighed with some relief and slowly left for his chosen spot.

Petrus did the same, giving her a slight bow and returning up the stairs, clearly not wanting to spend another second involved in the situation. If this was the man who'd taught miracles to Darelle, she could understand why they got along.

Grian intently looked at Laurentius until he breathed heavily, shaking his head.

"I didn't hear anything, I swear. I can't even hear my thoughts over the snoring of that thing," Laurentius complained, pointing towards a specific part of the ruins.

"It's driving me crazy! And that stinking breath…" the crestfallen warrior muttered, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

He was swaying in his usual spot, hands clutching his head and looking as though he was close to losing what was left of his sanity.

"This guy was closer," Laurentius pointed out, putting his arms on his hips. "And you came from the area not long ago, right? In fact, you seem to know that knight better than us."

"This man is worthless. Look at him," Grian murmured, pointing at the crestfallen man. "And Lautrec only spent time antagonizing my travelling companion and me while we reinforced our flasks. He didn't give us his detailed plan to assassinate the Keeper."

"Well, I don’t think he gave it to anyone else at Firelink Shrine either. He just stayed there, as far as I know. He didn't get along with anyone. So that orb, his nasty mood, proximity to the crime, and disappearance are all you've got," Laurentius said, crossing his arms.

And the guilt of setting him free.

He was right. Grian couldn't expect to find the killer's detailed plan from people who had nothing to do with him.

"I know. Sorry for... dragging you around. Damn it, what is that snoring? Ugh... and the stench," Grian muttered, wrinkling her nose and looking around, incapable of ignoring it anymore.

"I'd rather not know," Laurentius said.

Huffing and puffing, Grian decided she definitely preferred to know what was going on, whether it was pleasant or not, stopping as she remembered something. After all, Laurentius had been helpful several times, and she hadn't been particularly friendly with him.

"Laurentius, I think I treated you unfairly. You were right to search deep in that horrible place. Beyond Blighttown, I found two of the Witch of Izalith's daughters and Lost Izalith. One of them, Quelana, was willing to teach me pyromancy," she revealed, watching the pyromancer's gaze light up with joy and disbelief.

Such was the man's euphoria that he grabbed her by the shoulders, looking at her like a child who had just heard something extraordinary and was considering hugging her. Grian didn't push him away but stayed stiff, uncomfortable.

"Are you serious? It's… I have to go! It's my reason to live. It's what gives purpose to this curse. If I find that ancient knowledge..."

"Out of the question. It would be suicide for you to go alone," Grian systematically said, seeing how the pyromancer's gaze darkened. "It's too dangerous. But, if I ever have to go back, which I hope not, I'll take you with me."

Jaw set, Laurentius looked at her in a frustrated and obviously irritated way for her condescending words, still spurred on by the revelation.

"I know how to take care of myself."

"That statement loses value when it comes from someone I found tied up in a barrel, ready to be carved on a spit," she replied.

"Why do you care, anyway? It didn't seem like you had a problem with the idea of killing me over and over until I became Hollow," he said, reminding her of her threat in the Depths.

Grian hissed under her breath, beginning to lose patience.

"I thought you had something to do with the assassin, and I already apologised," she growled, grabbing her shield and turning toward the area where the loud snoring was coming from.

Laurentius didn't say anything else to her. Instead, he went to his spot, muttering about wasting time and an unprecedented opportunity. It was challenging to keep a cool head with everything that had happened. A useless bonfire, the Fire Keeper dead, a murderer toying with her, a stranger threatening her, and the pyromancer taking her words as an invitation to plunge to his death foolishly. And, to make things more interesting, she found the ugliest, smelliest and most disgusting thing she had ever seen, which was saying something after meeting the gaping dragon of the sewers.

The creature woke up with a series of annoyed growls, and Grian got a better look at its grotesque form.

Its long neck protruded from the pit to the west of the ruins, but she couldn't see anything beyond the darkness from which it emerged. It had thick, grey skin, a strange head, a mouth full of enormous human-like teeth that kept snapping, large bulbous eyes, and two fleshy whiskers. It watched her intently, gently swaying its head from side to side.

She was genuinely surprised when the thing spoke.

"Ahh, hello. Was it you who rang the Bell of Awakening?" he asked, with a curious tone and a rumbling voice.

"Yes... And I see something has awakened," Grian murmured.

Now she fully understood the complaints of the crestfallen man and Laurentius. The creature stank. But he ignored her tone and her tense displeasure, seemingly uninterested in paying attention to his effect on humans.

"I am the Primordial Serpent, Kingseeker Frampt, close friend of the Great Lord Gwyn. Undead, who has rung the Bell of Awakening, I wish to elucidate your fate. Do you seek such enlightenment?"

Grian looked at him for a few seconds in silence. She felt dizzy as soon as she heard the Great Lord Gwyn's name spoken so lightly, reverently but confidently. Was there really a hideous-faced, fetid-breathing serpent trying to give her directions in the name of the most powerful Lord?

"I... I don't know," she stammered.

Of course, she'd heard of the Chosen in that ridiculous prophecy, but she'd never expected to be in that category. Was this something that happened to anyone if they managed to ring the Bells? She doubted it was just her beyond that point, and the serpent didn't look terribly reverent towards her for her Chosen status, as if it were a unique thing, more like delivering a well-known message.

"Hmm. That's why I offer you guidance," Frampt said in a slow tone as if dealing with a child.

Uncomfortable by his gnashing of teeth but at the same time aware that the information could be helpful, Grian raised her eyebrows and nodded. As flamboyant as he was, she would listen to him.

She couldn't possibly lose anything for it.

Chapter Text

Grian intently listened to the ancient serpent's words, wishing she hadn't. She listened as Frampt urged her to follow a path dictated by a greater will, and she felt defeated, weighed down by the task he wanted to bestow upon her. She'd vowed to follow the senseless pilgrimage. She'd faced indescribable nightmares, crawled out of her grave time and time again, and travelled through the foulest places. She endured pain, despair, failure, and misery. But now...

Succeeding the Great Lord Gwyn, linking the Fire, breaking the Undead Curse, and finding the Lordvessel in Anor Londo. Cast away the Dark. Giving up what little free will she had left and serving others in ways she couldn't even understand.

What had she expected? To wander forever with a dissolute path while deciding whether or not it was worth existing?

Grian slumped against the ruined wall just outside Frampt's area, feeling as dim and weak as the Shrine bonfire. She felt sick. She wanted to hide and hold on to the few good and warm things she had experienced, to pretend that the outside world wasn't going to get harder and harder and close in around her. She couldn't help but hate herself for feeling like a terrified, pathetic weakling, similar to the crestfallen man, but the weight of reality hit her so hard that not even all the souls in the world could possibly lessen the depressive thoughts. Nothing could ease the fact that the world was dying and that she couldn't just ignore it and focus on herself. She had foolishly thought that she'd accepted that long ago, but never had it been more ominous than at that exact moment in time, with her body and mind struggling to find the strength to face the agony ahead.

Perhaps the serpent spoke figuratively of the Great Lord Gwyn's succession? How could anyone possibly do that? He was a primordial being with incomparable power, so far removed from mere mortals that her weak memories sufficed to guarantee that no one she knew or heard of had ever seen him. If he needed help and a successor, there was no point in looking for it among humans. Frampt hadn't seemed keen on delving into the matter, but he was clearly testing her disposition, and it seemed that it wasn't the first time he had done so. After all, that was his title, being the Kingseeker.

What an absurdity. There's something that eludes me. No king gives up his power so lightly, whether mortal or immortal, I'm sure of that, she grimly pondered. I have no desire for royalty, but I have to continue, anyway. I must go to Anor Londo. I may find more answers there. Also, Solaire should be there as well, and the invasion orb is pointing in that direction.

She started at the sound of approaching footsteps but relaxed when she saw it was Laurentius.

"Everything okay?" he asked, crouching down beside her.

Grian let out a humourless laugh. Then, feeling trapped, she removed her helmet and set it aside, leaning her head against the wall. She thought she saw Laurentius' expression changing for a second but decided it must've been her imagination, for when she looked again, it was completely neutral.

"I'm about to do what I should've done with Lautrec and throw myself off the cliff. It's not like it'll fix things, but oh well," she mumbled, seeing Laurentius smirk at the sinister joke, shaking his head.

"I was beginning to wonder if the creature had eaten you alive when you didn't come back," he said.

"Gods, no. You have no idea how bad that thing smells up close. The last place I want to be is inside his mouth," Grian replied, shuddering.

"As I told you, I'd rather not know."

"What do you care if I come back anyway?"

There was no need to elucidate that their encounters hadn't been terribly positive, even if she'd saved him from death. Laurentius shrugged.

"I would prefer if no misfortune befell you, even if you are quite irritating," he acknowledged, drawing another low laugh from Grian. "So, are you going to Anor Londo?"

"It seems like it. After going through Sen's Fortress. Sounds like fun."

"I'm sure it won't be. I wish you luck on your travels. If you ever want to learn pyromancy, I'm up for it," Laurentius said, softly placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing before getting up again.

Grian nodded and smiled slightly, getting tense at the touch and knowing she wouldn't take the offer but appreciating the gesture nonetheless. Then, as she was left alone again, resolve slowly heated her numb body, reminding her that with or without expectations, she had to move on.

She picked up her helmet, sword and shield and marched towards another deadly destination.

Grian unhurriedly made a detour before heading to the bonfire above Andre's forge, wandering into the woods and looking for things that might prove helpful. Moss was tricky to gather, but it was always good to have reserves, and she preferred to waste the bare minimum at merchants dealing in essential goods at exorbitant prices. They fed on despair, and she would not contribute to their greed.

After facing a massive black knight, she found a magnificent grass emblem shield. During that encounter, she was much more prudent than the first time she'd fought one of those adversaries, but she still ended up with a broken arm and a concussion after taking a blow from the halberd's shaft, which sent her flying several paces away. Drinking Estus fixed it, though, and the shield was well worth it. For some reason, as soon as she picked it up from the corpse of the poor unfortunate soul who died there, she felt her energy increase. It surely had some spell engraved into the metal, for she climbed the path tirelessly and soon decided to return her old shield back to Andre, taking this one in its place.

Grian tried to keep her visit to Andre brief, knowing that the longer she lingered, the more reluctant she would be to keep going. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Andre took her hand and gave it a friendly squeeze, wishing her luck and asking her to be careful. He probably saw the doubts in her eyes clearer than anyone else. Grian just nodded and promised to return in one piece, though from what she'd heard, no one had ever returned from Anor Londo.

If that was true, however, the fact that Solaire was already trying to get there outweighed her fear and trepidation. Most curiously, it was enough to give her the last push when crossing the stone bridge and entering beyond the portcullis of Sen's Fortress.

But nothing could've prepared her for what awaited inside.

The place built of earth-coloured stone and bloodstained metal was wickedly designed to play with her anxieties and reflexes. There were traps at every corner intended to kill any traveller stupid enough to venture inside in the most horrific ways possible. It wasn't just a place of unavoidable misery. It was specially built to represent and enforce it.

The snake-men guarding the decrepit Fortress were ready to devour her or push her to her death; each of them knew how to fight with their twisted and precise weapons, wielding spells and slipping through the corridors in search of prey. Their fangs pierced her armour more than once, and their weapons continuously overran her defences, especially in the most crucial moments and narrowest passages.

Guards or not, Sen's Fortress hardly needed anything other than its structure built on mud and blood to drive anyone mad.

Grian fell, impaled on the side by one of the many sharpened pendulums spanning the narrow bridges, only to end up surrounded by titanite demons who skewered her as she sank into the pasty tar at the bottom of the construction. She was pierced from side to side by bolts as she triggered traps, crushed to death by giant boulders, and smashed under spikes while trying to take elevators. But each time, she fought to keep her sanity, to overcome pain, frustration, and anger and rise at the bonfire. She had to go on. She had to reach Anor Londo.

During one of her attempts to cross the labyrinthine tunnels, Grian found, among other things, coins and valuable objects to sell later. She also found a bonfire, so her hardship traversing through the narrow, pendulum-ridden bridge in the lower section was somewhat alleviated.

In a separate and firmly sealed room unclogged by the balls continually running down the Fortress's rails, Grian found a strange individual locked in a torture cage. He was an old man in a huge wide-brimmed hat, apparently sane and terribly bored by the confinement. However, he seemed more irked by boredom than by fear of what they would do with him. He introduced himself as Big Hat Logan, a scholar, another sorcerer who had ended up in a place he couldn't escape and needed help. Quite the surprise.

He was calm and controlled, friendly and apparently hardly capable of insidious activities, so Grian agreed to open the cage for him with a blow of her shield. The sorcerer recounted how liberating it was to leave inactivity and get back on the road.

"I will return to Firelink Shrine, young one, don't worry. I'll find a way to reward you for your help," he asserted, adjusting his tunic and leaving with that huge wide-brimmed hat sunk deep into his skull.

Grian watched him go, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course you will," she sighed, shaking her head.

She'd lost count of how many Undead owed her favours at that point, but she didn't care either. She was content as long as they weren't killing Fire Keepers.

Sullen and running out of the few souls she had left, she understood why people struggled in that horrible place and wasn't surprised when she found someone else in trouble. This time it was Siegmeyer, the Knight of Catarina, who was utterly stuck in a tight spot for being careless.

The man in the onion-shaped armour dangled his feet in the air, grunting and letting out pensive sighs. He seemed more concerned with planning how to win the play against the stone balls that had pushed him over the edge than actually trying to do something about it.

"Perhaps I could try some rolling... Bah, no chance. My head would spin. Mmm...…" he murmured.

He ignored her with distracted innocence, focused on his musings, and Grian refrained from trying to snap him out of it. She went on her way, suffering several more crushes and blows, some fatal, that forced her to go all the way again, and found out the culprits behind all the ruckus of stones rolling in the damn Fortress. Two giants, no less; enslaved guardians throwing spheres to deal with any intruders in a macabre way. Mercilessly, Grian severed their tendons, piercing their tough hide and knocking them to the ground, ending their miserable existences. Thus Siegmeyer was free to move from his spot, and she would no longer die with her organs and bones turned to mush. She still trembled at the memory of each death, like an insect trodden under a merciless boot.

Making her way over some narrow, tumbled-down stone bridges at the top of the complex, with the distant sun overhead, Grian stopped short. She saw a figure in the distance on one side of the bridge opposite the main building. She briefly hesitated over whether to jump the gap in the bridge and investigate but found herself doing so, even if she was in danger of running into someone she didn't want. She already went face to face with a Hollowed astoran knight wielding a deadly rapier, undoubtedly dangerous, around a corner she could've avoided. However, this time the man she found hidden among old chairs and tables wasn't threatening, despite being quite tall and wearing enormous armour.

Grian felt something disturbing shaking her insides at the sight of him. The man was just another Berenike knight, even though he was the first he'd seen that wasn't Hollow. When he looked at her as she entered the room, her knees almost gave way, the whole room spinning, and she had to brace against the wall to steady herself. She swallowed hard and tried to control her breathing, her vision slowly blurring, with dots dancing before her eyes and a ringing in her ears. Dozens of voices and images rushed through her mind like an unending kaleidoscope, flickering visions with knights similar to the one before him.

"Hmm… what are you doing? Who are you?" the man dryly asked.

His voice came to her as if they were underwater.

"I'm… I'm a pilgrim," Grian replied, feeling as if each word was almost impossible to articulate.

"Ahh… Another Undead, huh? Are you trying to take on Sen's Fortress alone, driven by conceit? And I see you're paying for it. You shouldn't have much left to go Hollow."

"Shut up. I'm fine. I can do it. I'm just tired," Grian growled, shaking her head and snapping out of her haze by sheer determination. She backed away from the wall with a tense posture.

"Ahh, you think you are different? That you can handle it? Yes, I remember that feeling, for I was the same. Let me help you out," he said, his tone suddenly kind and determined as if he were a different person. Grian frowned. Between her nonsensical reaction and the man's strange temperament, she didn't know what to make of this situation. "I have provisions and various goods rescued from the poor wretches who pass through here and go Hollow. We are all doomed, anyway."

Sighing, Grian nodded slightly. She could at least get rid of some junk, see if the man had anything of value, and get out of there as soon as possible. With her mind clearer and body settled, she could see that the man was acting quite erratically, continually changing his mind and mood, which was an unmistakable symptom of the proximity of Hollowing. His desperate way of remarking that there was no hope made her hair stand on end. It looked like he had a blade dangling over his head, passively allowing it to condemn him to die eventually.

I've been there too. And what I just felt had nothing to do with that. It was more like… when I woke up from one of those dreams, but worse.

Since it went away, she put that away and finished her business with the man. Before she left, however, he grabbed her arm with a forlorn, defeated expression.

"We are done. We can't handle this," he muttered, his lip slightly quivering and his brown eyes filling with unconditional terror before he suddenly started laughing maniacally. "Let me give a nibble of advice. Don't even consider visiting Anor Londo. Not in your state. For a century, they have tried and failed. The Knight King Rendal, Black Iron Tarkus, and even Logan himself. You won't stand a chance. You'll be eaten alive. But, go along if you wish. If only to deepen your despair!"

Grian jerked away from him, feeling a sudden, hot rage.

"I am not done," she barked, clenching the familiar hilt of her greatsword, feeling the power of its raw strength like an extension of her body. "You may rot alone, but I won't."

The man frowned, putting on a strange expression and making a sharp sound. It almost seemed like she'd momentarily snapped him out of his defeated stupor.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

The question caught Grian off guard, and she didn't know what to say. It could be possible. Obviously, her memory wouldn't be of any help in that regard.

"I don't know," she admitted.

The man nodded, shrugging, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the ground.

"It doesn't really matter. Come on, get out of here. Follow your senseless journey."

Snarling, Grian continued across the bridge and jumped over the space separating it from the main path. What a strange man. She wasn't feeling well after the encounter, but something told her that, even if she'd known him from before, it was irrelevant at that point. It wouldn't make a difference for him, already lost in his forlorn state, and she had more pressing matters at hand than discerning if she knew that man.

By the time she reached the top of the Fortress, tired and weak, she was pretty sure she wouldn't find any sign of Solaire there. She would've appreciated his assistance or company in that ghastly place, but she couldn't blame him. Most likely, the knight was helping other people without any control over who summoned him, fighting his way through the Fortress, or perhaps he had already achieved victory and reached his long-awaited destination in Anor Londo. She closed her eyes, bruised and ashamed and pushed beyond her limits.

What if Solaire found whatever fitted his vague description of his very own sun? He spoke of it as something to own and treasure, not some distant star. She had always silently thought that it was just an absurd quest that couldn't possibly be completed, but what if he found it in Anor Londo... Maybe it was a spell, a miracle, a rite, or a divine relic. What would happen if he ever got his hands on the very thing that gave purpose to his existence? Would he leave Lordran?

Grian took a hard breath as something painfully constricted her chest, shuddering at the thought of wandering Lordran without ever seeing the Warrior of Sunlight again. Trying to protect herself, she could still hear the murmur of cynicism reminding her that she couldn't depend on anyone and be pathetic. However, the emptiness that idea brought was so distressing it drowned out everything else.

Closing her eyes, she tried to get a hold of herself.

I better get used to the idea. We have different paths, and if that happened, the only thing I have the right to say is goodbye and admit that I would miss him.

For now, she had to focus on the present.

She only had a small, flickering Humanity left. She couldn't afford to go around nearly Hollow, dry and weak, vulnerable to the coup de grâce that would put her out of her misery. No, she couldn't get that close to that fine line any more than she had in her first agonizing days in Lordran.

With a gleam of defiance in her eyes, she glanced at the titanic metal guardian atop the Fortress, the Iron Golem waiting with its gigantic axe in hand. She knew by now that a guardian meant a path, but she had no strength to face it. Not yet. And she preferred to die as a summoned phantom rather than mangle her real flesh.

Grabbing her soapstone, she set her summoning sign down. There was no better way to recover souls and Humanity, and maybe, just maybe, she could find the Warrior of Sunlight that way.

Grian lost count of the number of times she helped pilgrims in need. Sometimes she went alone with the host. Other times, there were other phantoms; on many occasions, she met a strong knight in heavy black armour, an immense shield and a great sword. And from him, she learned how to face the fearsome Golem. For some reason, however, she felt as dizzy and uneasy when seeing him as the first time looking at the crestfallen merchant, but this time the beating feeling didn't go away.

From some talkative host, she heard that the knight was indeed Tarkus, the same one the downcast man from Berenike briefly mentioned. Everyone who knew his name looked at him with reverence and gratitude, a pillar of support after having foolishly ventured into the Fortress. Grian didn't know anything about him, but the name resounded deeper in her memory each time she heard it, and a growing feeling of warmth pooled in her chest. She silently noticed that he was a taciturn and robust man, and she wondered if, perhaps, the man was still there trying to make it or just helping others as a way to redeem himself.

The Golem was a relentless foe that required speed and brute force. Grian suffered from his stomps and axe blows, which usually ended her life in one blow. But from Tarkus, she learned to focus her impacts on its legs until it stumbled to the ground. And then mercilessly destroy it. There came the point where she would give him a respectful nod of acknowledgement upon being summoned and meeting him. The knight silently watched her from inside his helmet and nodded, returning the salute.

Grian felt both physically crushed and strengthened by the souls. She didn't know how long it had been since she started helping others until she decided to face the Golem herself and summon Tarkus, but she suspected it was quite a while.

Stretching her muscles, she went towards his summoning sign in the adjoining tower, removing her helmet and setting it on a table. She really needed to take it off and get some air before facing the Golem.

She spotted the familiar whitish figure of Tarkus' phantom rising up, but his attitude wasn't what she had expected. At first, he stood still in his usual stance, greatsword over his shoulder and massive shield in his other hand, but suddenly he took a step back, almost putting himself against the wall, and dropped the spectral shield to the ground. It fell with a muffled thud before Grian's shocked expression. Then, the man lowered his sword and dropped it as well. She had no idea what was going on, but the knight seemed to have lost all trace of stoicism as soon as he saw her, staring in absolute astonishment. She didn't know what to do.

Hesitantly, the colossal man raised a hand and moved it towards her, and Grian stood still. She didn't know why, but she didn't withdraw as she would've with anyone else, more so with someone she barely knew and with whom she hadn't exchanged a single word. Slightly shaking, Grian looked at him as he brushed his gauntleted hand lightly against her cheek, feeling nothing but a raw, deep pain and longing she couldn't put a name to. What was going on?

Not realizing that she had tears in her eyes, she looked at him in bewilderment.

"Who are you?" she asked, although she knew he couldn't answer.

Tarkus cocked his head, looking at the ground, and stayed that way for a moment. Then, he put his hand on Grian's breastplate, tapping it three times over her heart and bringing both hands to his head to remove his peculiar helmet.

It was the worst feeling in the world to see that stern face of his, familiar features and dark hair, to feel something immeasurable filling her chest and not knowing who he was. The harsh knight looked at her with feelings that he usually wouldn't show; pain, shame, pride and fondness. But he couldn't speak and explain the reason for all that was going on, so Grian followed the impulse dragging her and hugged him instead of waiting for an answer. Initially, she was shy and uncomfortable against his armour, but she quickly felt comfortable and protected when the black steel knight put an arm around her and rested her chin over her head. She had been there many, many times.

Grian knew that whatever she said wouldn't make sense, not without having memories to accompany it, so she stayed there as long as she could. Then, something tremendously heavy dissolved inside her, leaving only the reality that, whoever he was, he deeply cherished her, and she needed him once again.

"I need help to kill the Golem," she whispered.

She felt Tarkus nodding, and she finally broke away from him, shifting under his proud gaze. The knight took the helmet, resolutely putting it on, and gave her chin an affectionate touch before picking up the enormous greatsword and shield. He was ready to fight.

Picking her helmet and getting ready, she walked past him towards their enemy. Knowing that Tarkus stood behind her and gave her all the necessary experience made her stand strong and confident in facing danger. They won, causing the Golem to lose its stability and fall into the void with a thunderous sound.

Panting, Grian turned to Tarkus, trying to get to him. She stood with him, dropping her sword and shield and placing her hand over his cuirass while he started vanishing. Without dropping his weapons, Tarkus brought her in with the arm carrying his shield, as if shielding her from the outside while pulling her close. She knew she probably wouldn't see him again, so she basked in the proximity of his ghostly form until it disappeared, leaving her utterly alone.

They may see each other again in the future. Maybe they could speak and bring her memories back. She really wanted to believe it. He seemed extremely capable, so perhaps this wasn't really a goodbye.

Swallowing a sudden wave of pain, Grian spent a couple of seconds catching her breath until a small glowing sphere appeared a few meters away, immediately drawing her attention. Suddenly, shadows loomed over her head, and screeches filled her eyes. She cringed at the sight of some gaunt, demonic creatures descending on her and braced to defend herself. Frowning, she covered herself with her shield and prepared to land a high cut with her sword, but they kept making strange sounds out of her reach.

Grian eventually got tired and lowered her weapons. And it was at that precise moment that the creatures pounced on her, grabbing her by the arms and flying away at full speed while she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Chapter Text

Grian squealed as she flew.

The air hissed through the holes in her helmet, and her body uncontrollably swayed like a flag in the wind. The two demons grunted and giggled as they carried her, apparently amused and, at the same time, irritated by her attempts to get free. This was nothing like flying in the immense talons of a giant crow; carried by the demons, she felt as if she were about to fall into the void at any given time.

Attempting to seriously harm the creatures would only result in falling to the ground, something she preferred to avoid. So all she could do was squirm to make a point that she wasn't there willingly, shout at them, and hope they wouldn't drop her after they made it over the giant wall.

She stopped moving when the sun blinded her, flooding everything before her tired eyes, allowing the creatures to finally carry her without tumbling through the air.

She was sure that never in her life had she seen anything like Anor Londo. Her heart sank at the sight of the proud buildings worthy of the gods, with slender buttresses, majestic pinnacles, white stone facades with narrow windows, and the clouds caressed by the proud rays of a sun cascading to the earth up above. Everything she had seen before, everything she could have imagined, paled before the city of the gods, before its cathedrals and strongholds, before its towers and mansions. Distracted, she didn't even realize she was descending a set of stone stairs with carved railings until her feet hit the ground. She regained her balance and glanced over her shoulder, watching as the creatures left without paying much attention to her. It seemed their intention was simply to take people from one place to another, but she didn't take her eyes off them until they perched on the wall with their backs to her.

Nervous, she looked at Lordran's jewel. Her heart raced as she strolled down the stairs, self-conscious about her battered appearance. She could almost imagine great Lords and Ladies walking those holly steps, going through the stories her mind vaguely remembered about beings of immeasurable power beyond human understanding, and their noble servants. She didn't know if some of them were still there, waiting to judge her from their marvellous thrones or if they had really left, but Anor Londo commanded an undeniable reverence with its very structure. It was impossible not to feel small and unworthy on the perfect marble steps in such a clean, grandiose city.

But, as always, beauty was also dangerous in Lordran.

The place was tightly guarded by giants clad in beautiful golden armour, wielding huge halberds, dignified sentinels who were in no way there to welcome the visitor warmly. Grian, sooner rather than later, found herself putting her fascination aside and running between the legs of these fearsome and systematic enemies, looking for a way to knock them down. Ultimately, she abused her new tactic of attacking their ankles until they stumbled or made them attack each other, knowing that Tarkus would've been proud of it.

Once she was done with them, she kept looking for a nearby bonfire.

She stood still at the room entrance, looking at a woman in peculiar bronze armour leaning against the wall with an elegant posture. It was a Fire Keeper, though vastly different from the one from the Shrine. This one seemed ready to take up arms and had no problem speaking.

Grian sensed familiar deference in her, no matter how hard she tried to call her Chosen. Again, as with Frampt, it seemed more like a veiled way of making her feel special than an actual act of respect. In any case, that Keeper could be the only person capable of revealing how to help the Shrine's Keeper, so she ignored her tone and decided to search for answers.

"I need to know how to light back up a bonfire that was guarded by a Keeper who was recently slain, her soul stolen," she said, seeing how the woman tensed. "Is it possible?"

The woman nodded, waiting a few seconds in silence before speaking.

"It can be done. If her soul reunites with her body before another person totally absorbs it."

Grian nodded, taking a breath and giving her a slight bow.

"I appreciate your help."

She didn't stop for long at that point. Slightly rested, she followed the Keeper's instructions to reach the Great Lord's main palace, ready to finally discover what awaited there. However, as soon as she took the elevator down, she stumbled upon a blocked road, and her way was totally cut off.

Grian sighed, looking around the area, towards a buttress leading to the adjacent building. If she was careful, she could jump onto a balcony and continue that way, as the central elevator was out of the question.

Her legs trembled, and her feet slipped as she walked over the flying buttress, balancing the weight of shield and sword as some kind of pitiful circus performer. But her performance had just started.

Rolling as soon as she reached the end of the structure, she landed on the balcony, entering the building through an already broken window. She reconsidered the situation's absurdity when she saw that her path would take her through the ceiling rafters and that there were enemies in those thin supporting structures. Veiled assassins dressed in white. They were clearly there to ensure that, even if she didn't fall on her own, she would end up dead anyway from a swift kick or one of their blades.

Couldn't the gods make it easy even on their own ground? Was an audience without a thousand absurd impediments too much to ask?

Grian made a pitiful sound as she lowered her gaze to the ground below, far enough that she would kill herself most horribly if she fell. Her walk through the rafters was pathetic, clinging like a monkey when she lost her balance, dragging herself and letting the assassins sink their daggers into her as she kept crawling. She cruelly laughed as she pushed several attackers, grabbing them by the ankles and pulling as she clung for support. Finally, with her stomach clenching in fear, she reached another balcony, stepping onto solid ground and reaching the elevator.

Cursing from all the blows she received, she reached the bottom floor, filled with more elusive assassins. There, she found something that sent her into a cold shock, her heart shattering into a million pieces as she saw a familiar figure lying in a corner.

Tarkus, wearing his trademark black armour, leaning against a wall.

Dropping to one knee by his side, she wondered about that suffocating grief choking her chest. She saw her trembling hand reaching out for his worn-out breastplate, full of dust, softly tapping it three times and drowning in unbearable pain when she saw her own small hand doing that in a distant memory. Before she knew it, she was howling like a wounded animal, crumbling, falling over the corpse and allowing that child from another life to shout and cry while her present murderous rage blinded her blurry vision.

Shaking, she reached for his limp hand, taking the metallic engraved ring in one of his fingers and laying his hand back on his chest. She put it on one of her fingers, feeling as if his ghost had somehow taken the weight of the world from her shoulders while stabbing her chest with the most profound pain at the same time.

Flashes of memory wounded her mind.

She rose from the ground, charging towards the remaining assassins in the area. It was all their fault.

She raised her little arms, and he easily picked her up from the ground. The pounding of hooves, the voices of warriors and the clanking of steel surrounded them. He placed her against his chest, and she grabbed his face, putting on a gesture that she thought was as severe and mean as that of adults.

"I want to go."

"And I want to stay. But we must fulfil our duty."

She lunged against the nearest assassin with her entire body, knocking him down and driving her sword through his head. She dodged to avoid another attacker, leaving her sword still stuck in the previous one, and used her shield to smash him to shreds.

"You will be the terror of your enemies when you learn to control your feelings," his deep voice said, helping her up from the ground.

She snarled, picking up the practice sword and looking down, humiliated. She always ended up on the ground.

"No matter how old I get, I'll never be as big as everyone else. I'm always at a disadvantage," she irritably complained.

Sometimes she couldn't help but see her mixed blood as a burden.

He raised her chin with a gauntleted hand to make her look up and gave her a stern glance. She knew he had no tolerance for self-pity, even if he was more lenient with her than anyone else. Which wasn't saying much because he was well-known for being extremely strict.

"You don't need to be big to be strong," he asserted, letting go of her face and giving her three touches on the protective cuirass, over her heart. "You need determination, discipline and courage. And training. So go on, try again. And don't make any excuses."

"It's not fair. I could at least have one of those rings..."

"You will, one day. But first, you need to get stronger on your own."

More assassins arrived upon hearing the fight. She lost her shield and hammered into one of their corpses as she howled like a rabid creature. She fought with her fists, using her gauntlets as weapons and ignoring the cuts and blows.

Like many times before, he left, marching through the snow before dawn. The others left, too, an unbreakable formation from one of the proudest realms, ready to face horrors beyond human understanding. It was their sworn duty. But this time, it was different.

How she wished she could be strong enough to climb mountains and melt the ice trapping the sun. Perhaps she would have prevented it from branding them with darkness, and he wouldn't be leaving. Maybe that way, its heat would have saved her.

She looked down at her hands, shaking. Why had she yelled at him, pathetically punching his cuirass to get away when he tried to say goodbye? He had begged her to at least allow him the peace to know that she didn't harbour any genuine resentment in her heart before leaving, and she had lashed out and given him the silent treatment as if that could keep him there. Such a stupid tantrum fuelled by grief, worthy of a child. She had to go after him and tell him she didn't hate him. She didn't blame him. She could fight alongside them, do better and keep her emotions in check.

Running like a monster was chasing her, she sprinted through the winter forest until she tripped and fell face-first onto the icy, muddy road, shivering.

The tracks had been frozen for hours. She never reached them.

She stood among corpses, alone. Trembling, covered in blood, she breathed heavily and put her hand on her helmet as if to keep her head on her shoulders. It took her what seemed like an eternity to pick up her weapons and return to reality, but she could not look at where Tarkus' body lay. The stream of memories died away, but its shadow loomed over her, and her uncontrolled anger gave way to cold pain.

It seemed as if he'd died long ago, yet she had just seen him in Sen's Fortress, and her mind barely had time to process her feelings and visions to make sense of the situation. The cruel reality of time's warped nature washed over her, fully aware of just how twisted it was. She felt as if years had passed since she left Firelink Shrine and an eternity since those distant memories. It was impossible to know precisely how much time had passed. She'd gone through so much and died so many times.

If only she'd known...

Taking a deep breath, she moved like she wasn't even there, desperate to leave the building.

She couldn't spiral out of control again. It was maddening to feel pushed by an invisible hand willing to let them die in some forgotten corner or suffer an eternity as empty shells of their former self, but she had to continue. Somehow she knew he would've been highly disappointed if she gave up.

Trying to distract herself, she mused over the fact that Solaire had to be somewhere in the city, and she desperately hoped not to find him in the same state as Tarkus. She refused to even allow herself to imagine that. There was also the matter of Lautrec, supposedly hiding in Anor Londo. Ensuring he returned the Keeper's soul and preventing him from harming anyone else was her duty after letting him free from his cell. Considering that Lautrec didn't seem on good terms with Solaire, the thought of them being in the same place finally pushed her to move and find them. She also had to find out the nature of the Lordvessel and the whole affair of succeeding Gwyn, something she felt much less driven about but could not ignore.

So she purposefully ascended to Anor Londo's main cathedral until she reached its courtyard, guarded by armoured giants. As she had already guessed, the main gates were firmly closed, so she was forced to detour around outside structures and flying buttresses yet again. Demons and silver knights reminded her that every single spot was tightly guarded and she wasn't welcome. They stood in outlandish areas, ready to kill and protect the sacred building, and she had to go into their territory without time for a plan.

Grian hated the royal archers with a passion. They were posted at every corner, shooting gigantic bows fitter to slay dragons than humans. They seemed to know full well that since the main entrance was blocked, the only way was through the narrow ledges they guarded. So, relentlessly they shot arrows as big as harpoons that destroyed her, threw her into the void and sank her into the most absolute despair. She wondered if that's what happened to Tarkus on the rafters, falling way too many times and finally losing all strength and purpose.

After countless failures trying to keep advancing, she was tired, and dark thoughts started plaguing her. She battled against so much accumulated pain, grief and loneliness that no bonfire could possibly make it better. There came the point where, after attempting to make a run for it and being pushed once again by one of the knights, she started screaming and throwing her things like a maddened creature as soon as she woke up again. The Fire Keeper silently watched her, assessing if she had finally lost it. Just thinking about trying it again made her legs shake with trauma, refusing to endure more pain.

Cursed silver knights. How could the Great Lord Gwyn have trained knights capable of swinging a sword on a foot-wide stand?

Once she calmed down by resting on an outside railing near the fire, she decided to try an even more aggressive approach. When she reached the corner of the main building, she rushed for the knights, hugging the wall and brutally pushing them into a furious struggle using only her shield, screaming for sweet revenge when she knocked them off balance, and they fell to their deaths. Having practically lost all of her strength and will, arms shaking and chest burning with exhaustion, she entered the inner area of Anor Londo's main palace.

Grian dropped to her knees for a moment, watching a corridor with several doors and a spiral staircase at the end.

"I can't… I can't anymore," she gasped, pulling off her helmet so she could breathe. She could feel a bonfire nearby. At least if she was going to pass out, she would do so without a helmet and near a safe place.

Swallowing and listening to her own heartbeat, she waited until she got her breathing under control, and she stopped seeing white spots dancing before her eyes, forcing her limbs to obey. She counted the marble tiles that she stepped on to get a distraction while she went to open the elegant white wooden door with a golden knob leading to the bonfire. However, upon entering the room, with a fireplace, chairs and old furniture, she found she no longer needed any more distractions.

She froze at the sight of Solaire, safe and sound.

Her eyes widened when she saw him sitting cross-legged by the fire. Was it real, or just a hallucination created by her weary mind?

Solaire looked in her direction. Grian remained utterly still, silent, not daring to do anything in case he disappeared before her eyes, and she went back to hopeless loneliness. Back to her own demons. Tired and miserable, she knew that her body was thinning and her skin had been sinking for some time, and she didn't even know if she could trust her eyes anymore. Suddenly embarrassed at the possibility that Solaire was really there, looking at her horrible and pathetic appearance, she hastily absorbed her last Humanity. She had been saving it, but she'd rather use it in that unnecessary moment than let him see how much of a sorry state she was in.

"Oh, hello! There you are," Solaire cheerfully greeted, gesturing for her to come closer.

Blowing a heavy breath, Grian shuffled towards the fire, carelessly dropping her things and startling Solaire with the sound. She mercilessly suppressed the inappropriate urge to throw herself at him, begging for comfort and reassurance. Grian knew he would pity her and comply, but she absolutely refused to break down in front of him. Instead, she held back the ache choking her and lowered her gaze to the ground, sitting on the other side of the fire.

"Hello," she greeted back, her voice low and hoarse from too much screaming.

"You've been quiet these days. I haven't seen you anywhere. Is everything alright?"

Grian grimaced, forcing herself to hold her composure and push out everything she wanted to say at once, knowing she wouldn't keep her cool doing it.

"It hasn't been easy," she vaguely answered, rubbing her tired eyes.

She heard Solaire's low chuckle inside his helmet.

"Oh, I know! Many travellers have requested my help," he said, fixing his gaze back on the bonfire. "How about you? Smooth summoning out there?"

Grian wouldn't speak about Tarkus. She wouldn't tell him she had expected to find his signal either. That would've been exposing a pain she couldn't deal with just yet and admitting that it hurt her to see dozens of strangers while waiting for him. She couldn't let him know that she hated time itself, cruel and twisted, and many times she'd feared not meeting him ever again. That was too much of a burden to throw on him and a clear statement of her own frailty.

"I... I guess," she finally answered.

After a few silent moments, in which Solaire realized there was something wrong behind her evident fatigue, the knight leaned in her direction as if trying to investigate her face more closely. She didn't look back at him, jaw set, letting him inspect her gesture without saying anything. She knew he wouldn't push her about anything she didn't want to, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to inquire in other ways.

"Anytime you see my brilliantly shining signature, do not hesitate to call upon me. You left me with quite an impression after our encounters, and I know you are a competent warrior. Still, I would relish a chance to assist you," he earnestly said, as if trying to ensure that she perfectly understood it.

Grian gave a low, bitter laugh.

"You may not believe me, but I haven't summoned you because I haven't seen your sign anywhere, not because I didn't want to."

Solaire straightened up again, making a contemplative sound, as if he hadn't considered the possibility. She didn't know whether to feel hurt because he thought she would wilfully ignore him for so long, or swallow her touchy pride and accept that she would've been perfectly capable of doing so before their time together after Blighttown. He just didn't know that. The only thing he might know for sure was that she wasn't unnecessarily rude anymore and was reliable in dangerous situations, but she hadn't let him know most of what was on her mind. To be honest, she was afraid to look into it, to begin with.

"Forgive me. I should have taken a little longer to offer help. The desire to get to this place got the better of me," he regretfully said.

"Don't do that," she immediately said, frowning. "Don't linger for me. That would be totally absurd."

"I willingly offered you my help. We may be forced to venture on our own most of the time, but I genuinely believe our destinies are intertwined and making sure we both make it is not absurd."

"Don't worry about me," she said with a dismissive gesture, getting up, stretching, and deciding to rest on one of the padded benches against the wall. She immediately went to claim it. Despite not wanting to risk Solaire disappearing in her sleep, she needed to rest before finally passing out. "I know it's the only thing I do when you're around, but I'm going to sleep for a while. Try not to disappear."

"I won't. Sweet dreams, my friend," he kindly answered.

Grian snuggled in her blanket and faced the wall, feeling safe enough, knowing Solaire was there, to fall asleep without much difficulty.

She winced and woke up to the sound of voices, immediately alert. Yawning, she turned to look over her shoulder, remembering just in time that she was sleeping on a thin bench in the gods' main palace. Feeling slightly dizzy, she almost would've preferred not to remember it.

Grian heard a deep voice and the sound of heavy metallic footsteps, blinking and searching for its source. Surprised, she saw it was none other than the clueless knight of Catarina, walking with his zweihander on his shoulder towards the bonfire and talking to Solaire. She remained silent, watching.

"Mmmm… This place is definitely not easy to reach, with so many narrow paths and ledges," Siegmeyer said, laughing. "A bonfire at last! I hope you don't mind sharing it for a bit, friend."

"Absolutely!" Solaire replied, holding out a hand in a welcoming gesture. "Sit down and rest."

Siegmeyer placed the zweihander and the small round shield on the ground next to Grian's weapons, finally removing the helmet from his bulging armour and putting it down. It was the first time she saw his face as he turned to sit down next to Solaire. He was a good-natured, middle-aged man with short black hair, a matching moustache, full cheeks and kind eyes, just as she had imagined. Like Solaire, it seemed that this journey didn’t affect his good spirits, and Grian couldn't help but feel a mixture of warmth and envy as she watched them nonchalantly talk and discuss some of the things they'd faced or seen of late.

She sat up, hugging her knees and looking up at the two of them. Enraptured by the friendly scene, she almost jumped when Siegmeyer laughed and pointed at her.

"Aha! Look, the mysterious pilgrim that always finds me whenever I'm stuck," he exclaimed, widely smiling. "What are you doing there, all alone? Here, come closer to the bonfire. This honourable Warrior of Sunlight and I are discussing our adventures in these lands. I'm sure you have good stories to share."

Grian hesitated, looking at Solaire, who nodded encouragingly, making the same welcoming gesture he had done towards Siegmeyer before.

What am I going to do stuck with those two?

She might silently admire their vibrant energy, but that didn't mean she could share it.

Sighing and finally giving in to their expectant gazes, she got up and walked over to the fire, facing them and trying to keep calm. She avoided Solaire's gaze, not knowing if he would take advantage of this opportunity to join forces with the other cheerful man to drive her nuts.

"So you're from Catarina," Solaire said, glancing at Siegmeyer, who vigorously nodded. "What is it like? I heard stories of the knights with onion-shaped armours but never saw one with my own eyes."

Siegmeyer furrowed his bushy eyebrows.

"Catarina is majestic! These armours are our pride and offer excellent protection. They clearly look nothing like onions!" he indignantly said.

"Sure..." Grian whispered to herself.

"Ah... My apologies. I meant no offence. You seem like a more than capable knight," Solaire said with a conciliatory gesture, softly laughing. "And, hmm, why are you travelling through Lordran? Do you wish to unveil the Fate of the Undead?"

"Oh, no, no! It's just for fun. I'm getting old and bored, and I crave new adventures," Siegmeyer explained, enthusiastically patting Solaire in the back. "It's certainly not as original a goal as yours, but I'm having quite a lot of fun."

They're cut from the same cloth... she thought, rolling her eyes.

"If you ever see my glowing signature on the ground, feel free to summon me. I'll help you without hesitation," Solaire offered, earning a friendly laugh and a nod from Siegmeyer.

While she inwardly laughed at Solaire's sincere eagerness while offering help to absolutely everyone, Siegmeyer turned his attention to her.

"Mmmm... Tell us something about you, mysterious stranger. What was your name? It's a bit embarrassing, but I seem to have forgotten it," he said.

“Grianach. You can call me Grian.”

"Ah, a great name, Grian. And… hmm… where are you from? You must be around my daughter's age," Siegmeyer asked, sincerely curious.

Suddenly feeling a gloom looming over her heart, Grian looked away. She swallowed hard and tried to answer with as much dignity as possible.

"I don't know. I can't remember," she uttered, shaking her head.

He surely noticed the dark cloud enveloping her, for he cleared his throat and started talking again to ease the sudden tension in the room.

"It's absolutely understandable. It happens these days, you know. I shouldn't have asked... we'll talk about something else," he nervously asserted. "I've heard there are many invaders in this place! I urge you two to be careful. They're usually very dangerous."

"Certainly, but fear not. They can be killed. Standing against similar opponents always keeps you on your toes," Solaire said, resolutely raising his fist and seemingly having an idea. "What about a friendly duel to prepare us? It's been a while since I did the last one."

Siegmeyer excitedly laughed.

"Oh, ho, ho, that sounds like fun! I'll show you what Catarina's knights are made of!"

Both knights rose, picking up their weapons, and Siegmeyer donned his helmet. Grian could sense Solaire's excitement, grabbing the shield and sword and adjusting his grip on both. She turned to look at them, forgetting about the previous discomfort and feeling some amusement at their display of chivalrous pride. Solemnly, they faced each other in the centre of the room and bowed.

Soon her amusement turned to excitement as it became clear they were fighting with actual intent to win, even though they weren't fighting to the death. It was impressive to see how Siegmeyer handled that enormous zweihander. Solaire dodged it with nimble movements, using the great shield and his strong arm to withstand mighty blows and deflect his opponent's weapon.

There was little space, but both used it to their advantage, surrounding each other and launching attacks to find unprotected spots in each other's defences. Solaire was quick with his one-handed sword, and Siegmeyer brutal with his two-handed greatsword. There were times when Grian feared that if he hit him, Siegmeyer would tear Solaire in two, but that never happened. She knew Solaire would rise again from the bonfire several paces away if that happened, fully recovered, but she didn't want to have to see that graphic image.

Finally, Solaire took advantage of a heavy downward strike from the zweihander to dodge to the side and slash with his sword, stopping it just as he had it screeching between the pieces of Siegmeyer's helmet and chest armour. They both remained silent for a few seconds, heavily breathing inside their helmets, and then they laughed in a friendly way, acknowledging the victory for the Warrior of Sunlight with a handshake.

"Ugh...! I'm getting way too old," Siegmeyer lamented, removing his helmet and returning to the fire, drenched in sweat. He looked at Grian. "Why don't you two fight? I'll rest and prepare a little something to cheer us up in the meantime. It would be wonderful."

Grian raised an eyebrow, glancing at Solaire, who was waiting, sword still in hand. She had a resounding no ready for an answer but bit her tongue at the Warrior of Sunlight's smug gesture, spreading his arms out to the sides with a shrug.

Putting her helmet on and picking up her sword and shield, Grian headed straight towards Solaire without waiting for one of those marvellously chivalrous salutes. Solaire defensively repositioned himself, momentarily confused by her quick dash at him. Grian unleashed a series of heavy blows that he hurriedly blocked with his shield, forcing him to step back. She heard Siegmeyer giggling at the bonfire but ignored him, meeting the Solaire’s fiery eyes through the slits in their helmets. And she saw what she wanted. He was taking her seriously, and his smug demeanour was totally gone.

Solaire switched to an offensive stance, using the shield to push her back to avoid being held against the wall. He attacked from the left flank, which she effectively covered with her shield, and kept throwing slashes and thrusts to prevent her from regaining too much ground. It didn't take long for her to understand why it was a blessing that this man hadn't decided to use his abilities to hurt people and why he could easily go where others never could. She had no idea where he had learned to fight like that, but he had evidently undergone rigorous training that he put to the test daily.

Locked in a tight fight, they circled each other, filling the room with the sound of metal against metal. Grian's flexible and powerful movements, against Solaire's, fast and strong, continually tried to surpass the other. However, she had to admit that it was difficult to get out of the range of the knight's wieldy sword. She received two blows, one on the arm and the other grazing her chest, and she could feel them as heavily as the impact of a hunting spear.

Patient and focused, Solaire did as with Siegmeyer and waited for the slightest opening in her defences and pointed the sword at her neck while deflecting the bastard sword with his other arm. Grian held her breath, instinctively throwing her head back as she saw the blade coming, but she refused to give up. She could almost see the knight's confident smile as the tip of his sword brushed her gorget, but she didn't stop, twisting to the side as if in a fatal dance, and lunged forward, striking Solaire with her shield. She pushed him against the wall, dropping her sword and using her free hand to catch the knight's wrist, pulling his sword away while they still pushed each other. Panting, they were both jostling for the winning position, and Grian saw that she would end up losing using just brute force, so she stepped back and kicked Solaire to the side of the knee. Irritatingly, he barely noticed it, so she followed it with a solid knee to the crotch using all her strength. He noticed that. Severely.

She heard his muffled howl inside the great helm, wincing in pain, and she took advantage of the situation to finally disarm him. Clearly unconcerned with whether he won or lost at the moment, the knight dropped his shield, still cringing, snarling through his teeth.

Grian listened to Siegmeyer's sympathetic snort from the bonfire. Then, shrugging, she removed her helmet, letting it fall to the ground. Solaire didn't seem in a place to acknowledge her victory, dropping to the ground and taking off his helmet as best he could to breathe, protecting the affected area with his hands. Grian felt some pity at his pained expression, red and covered in sweat. Maybe she'd hit him way too hard. But it wasn't her fault she knew unarmed combat and a man's weak points.

"I think I won," Grian said, crouching beside him with a mischievous laugh.

Solaire frowned, struggling to get up. But when he did, it wasn't upright and proud.

"That was…low, very low," Solaire gravely murmured, limping towards the bonfire.

"That was the intention," Grian said.

"What kind of honour is there in that, Grian? Oh… Poor man," Siegmeyer said, patting Solaire on the back as he plopped down next to him.

"Honour doesn't make you win. I am not a knight," she replied.

Even without memory, she knew she had done this as often as necessary before she was Undead for survival reasons.

"You are a fearsome woman. It has been an impressive fight, despite everything. But I will never duel you," Siegmeyer asserted, laughing.

Turning her gaze to Solaire, she ended up feeling undoubtedly guilty. He was no longer showing the same pain level on his face but was clearly still annoyed, his gaze fixed on the bonfire flames.

She moved closer to him to speak without raising her voice too loud.

"Sorry. I'm not sorry I won, but… I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'll leave that move for the invaders."

He looked at her sideways, his good nature battling the pain.

"That would have been preferable. But it's okay. I'll be fine," he unconvincingly said.

Grian ruefully leaned down to get a better look at his face.

"Now is one of those times when you have a right to be angry. Although it's not my fault that you men have a weak point everyone has to ignore," she said, watching as he sighed and shook his head with a brief smile.

The least she could do was try to cheer him up. But, on that occasion, she would have the help of Siegmeyer, who approached both of them and offered them his Estus flask.

"This will make you feel better! You should try it too, Grian. It's not common Estus. It's an old family recipe that will lift your spirits," he declared. Solaire warily took it.

Suspecting that he had mixed some shady ingredients with the Estus, Grian closely watched Solaire until he decided to throw caution out the window and drink it. He grimaced at its pungent taste and quickly passed it to Grian, coughing. She wrinkled her nose at the mixture, eyeing the white foam and smelling something that could be alcohol mixed with the Estus. Then, deciding not to overthink its ingredients, she swallowed everything left in the flask and coughed harder than Solaire. Siegmeyer roared with laughter.

"What is this poison?" Grian asked between coughs, acknowledging that it tasted like sour beer, liquor and hot Estus.

"Poison? It's Siegbräu! Give me your jars, and I will prepare more. We must celebrate that we have found each other!"

Chapter Text

They wouldn't realize just how much of a catastrophe it was for Estus flasks to regenerate infinitely until it was too late. Especially since Siegmeyer seemed to have endless ingredients to spice up the drink.

Solaire stopped worrying about it as soon as his whole body began to feel pleasantly warm and his annoyance at Grian's attack utterly disappeared. At first, he had been understandably bothered by that humiliating move but ended up accepting that Grian was just used to pulling any available move to survive. Still, he saw that she visibly regretted doing it against him; her initial smugness quickly turned to regret, and since then, she had been looking at him with concern. Even after they'd been drinking Siegbräu for a while, she still side-eyed him to make sure he was okay and wasn't about to declare his unending grudge against her.

He wanted to laugh at the mere thought of it, at the absolute absurdity of such a thing. Even if he hadn't been happy at the moment with the situation, many unpleasant things could happen in combat. It hadn't been exactly an accident, but it hadn't been for the sole purpose of making him suffer out of malice, either. What was clear to him now was that Grian was willing to bring her entire arsenal out of habit. At least he hoped she would refrain from doing it against allies in the future, although he wasn't going to try again anytime soon, to be honest. He preferred to keep everything he had intact.

"I feel strange," Grian mumbled, raising a hand in front of her face and carefully looking at it, her eyes widening to focus.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" Siegmeyer briskly said, downing the remainder of his drink in one gulp. "Now, lass, it's time for you to tell us some stories!"

"Do you really want me to delight you with stories of misery and pain? I have plenty of those. In fact, I think they're the only ones," Grian cynically said, giving a low chuckle and drinking more.

"Mmm... There has to be something good. You couldn't have possibly made it this far without acts of bravery. Yes, it might've cost you blood, sweat and tears, but that doesn't mean it wasn't also glorious. Come on; I'm sure there's something."

Grian ran a hand across her forehead with a frustrated sound, probably searching for something if only to get it over with. But, to Solaire's surprise, she did find things to talk about, even if they were few and far between, and most of them were from her travels around Lordran. Though Solaire was glad to see that earlier memories were surfacing as well, suspecting that her memory loss was something she usually carried with shame. He always wanted to alleviate it somehow by making her know that it was inevitable for most Undead. He had lost many memories too.

"…I plunged my sword into the creature and fell off the horse. My foot got caught in the stirrup, and I brushed the ground like a rug through the woods as my mount galloped on. I don't know how I finally got loose, but I remember that the horse only stopped running when it reached the camp stable, so I ended up covered in blood, mud and shit," Grian said, grimacing at the memory. "Then I think I got up and saw that my clothes had been absolutely torn apart after being dragged, and all of my backside was exposed, so I had to parade half-naked around the camp. I couldn't sleep on my back for several weeks."

Solaire and Siegmeyer laughed loudly, and Grian joined them, keeping her eyes on the ground.

"And what was the beast like?" Siegmeyer asked.

"Uh… I think it had an elongated head and big teeth, a body like a bear and a tail like a whip as big as a cart. There were quite a few of them there. I think they ate the horses at night," Grian reflectively said.

"Sounds intimidating. I don't think I've ever seen such a beast," Solaire uttered.

"And what did you kill to get those green pauldrons? Don't tell me you dyed some poor beast's pelt," Grian said, looking at him with an impish glint in her eyes.

Puffing out his chest with pride, he straightened up at the question.

"It's from the mane of a beast tormenting a village I stumbled upon when I left Astora's hinterlands," he proclaimed. "And... yes, it was green."

Grian burst out laughing, shaking her head.

"Green beasts… Only in Astora, I suppose."

"We've seen tiny-headed dragons with open bellies full of teeth bigger than a full-grown man. I don't think a green beast is the strangest thing you can imagine," Solaire retorted with an amiable guffaw and a shrug. "It wasn't common, anyway. It was probably the result of some sorcerer's experiments. The villagers thought they had offended a travelling wizard from Vinheim, and the beast was his way of punishment."

"Good thing you were around then, friend," Siegmeyer said, pulling out another bottle and gesturing for them to give him their flasks. "When we finish our adventures through Anor Londo, I'll get some more and make a big cauldron for all of us. But, for now, we'll enjoy this."

They both agreed despite knowing they had probably had enough, gladly giving their flasks to Siegmeyer and waiting for the beverage.

Even if the room was starting to move strangely around him, and his vision seemed to lag if he moved too fast, Solaire felt so good. And he wasn't the only one; Grian seemed to have entirely lost her taciturn mood, although it also seemed that she found difficulties talking, jumping from one subject to another and laughing more often than she ever had in all the time he'd known her. That was magnificent, so he laughed and tried to speak, too, finding out that he couldn't intervene as fluently as he wished. But it was okay. The three of them shared a wonderful time. That was all that mattered.

"I guess… I guess you two must make a good team in battle," Siegmeyer declared.

"Of course we do," Grian said, with some indignation, slightly slurring. She proudly poked her chest. "You haven't seen us… uhm… when we get together. No invaders, no monsters, no… no nothing can stand against us. Well, we aren't so good against rivers. But other than that, nothing dares get in our way!"

"Nothing. We are invincible," Solaire muttered, raising his fist as if daring an imaginary enemy to contradict him. "My sword and your… ahh… sword, together, they are invincible! And my lightning spears."

"And his lightning spears," she agreed, pointing at him as if to agree with the vital information.

Suddenly, Grian stood up, looking at them as if she just had an excellent idea.

"Why don't we show him? If it's full of… invaders… and enemies, huh? The two, the two… of us in an invincible formation."

Solaire slightly tilted his head, trying to understand what exactly she meant. It wasn't easy when everything in his mind was slowing down like he was floating on a warm, fluffy cloud.

"Invincible formation?"

"Yes." Grian lunged his way, crouching in front of him, but with a lack of stability that nearly caused her to head-butt him in the process. She leaned into him as if to share her secret plan, and he cocked his head to listen intently. "A true warrior has a horse to go faster and… well, to be stronger. We don't have horses, but one of us can be the horse. So we grab a sword, ride and… uh… charge! We bring together all the power of the two warriors and double it. Do you... understand?"

He thought about it several times, remembering that charging into battle on horseback was quite effective. However, if there were no horses, two warriors might do as well if they were strong enough.

"Hmm. Maybe. But why hasn't anyone thought of that… before?" he pondered.

"Pffff... because they're all idiots," Grian dismissively said, gesturing to a non-existent crowd. Then she looked at him with a self-assured expression. "And you are going to be the horse."

"Friends, I think you've had enough Siegbräu for today," Siegmeyer said with some concern, but the two totally ignored him.

Solaire looked at Grian in confusion. He wasn't sure he could be as fast as a horse right now. The room was moving way too much.

"Why me?"

"Because you are a knight. Knights know more about horses."

"That doesn't make any sense," he pointed out with a chuckle.

Grian thought about it, holding up a finger when she found something better.

"Because it's your turn. I carried you last time. Do you think... that makes better sense?" Grian drawled, putting her arms on her hips with a triumphant smile on her bewitching flush-cheeked face.

Solaire couldn't remember ever seeing her eyes so bright before or that expression free of any shadow of regret or bitterness. It was striking, and he thought it would be wonderful to know how to make it happen more often without Siegmeyer's beverages. Maybe he would find out one day.

He snapped out of his thoughts, not knowing exactly why it felt so natural to ramble on about it. His heart seemed to lose its natural rhythm when she was so close, and the heat he had been feeling throughout his body was twisting in his chest in peculiar ways. But for some reason, he found it utterly delightful.

For now, however, he had to focus. They had a mission to accomplish.

"Yes, alright... but use my sword. I don't want you to cut my head off with your greatsword," Solaire said, groping for his belt until he found the hilt and unsheathed it, handing it over. She took it reverently.

"This is absolutely ridiculous. You are not in your right mind," Siegmeyer seriously said.

"Oh shut up, don't be like that," Grian muttered, standing up and gesturing angrily. However, Siegmeyer got up as well, going much more steadily than she did to the room's door and blocking it. Grian frowned, first looking at Siegmeyer and then at Solaire, who went to her side and shrugged. "What do you think you're doing, old man? I thought… you wanted us to have fun."

"Safely. I'm not going to let you go off to face enemies while you're inebriated," Siegmeyer replied.

"I'm perfectly fine," Grian growled.

"Hmm. You are about to fall."

"I'm not. It's just that the room isn't stable. This place is… it's ancient."

"She's right," Solaire merrily said. "I feel better than ever."

Siegmeyer sighed, shaking his head as if he were facing two fools.

"No, I won't move. I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. So sit back and enjoy yourselves," he demanded, gesturing towards the fire.

Grian sighed in disbelief, but her eyes sparkled with mischief as she turned to Solaire, her back to Siegmeyer. She moved closer to him, whispering back into his ear.

"Let's go, but when he gets tired, we'll leave. I'm sure he will get bored and… will fall asleep or something," she said, softly laughing.

"Good idea," he whispered.

They went like partners in crime to the fire, sat down with more difficulty than they expected, laughing and murmuring, and looked in Siegmeyer's direction. The man sat on a bench to one side of the door, looking back at them, but said nothing. They continued talking about things that seemed relevant to them, resuming the drink.

"You should put your helmet on… meanwhile," Grian suddenly said, cutting Solaire off as he was recounting something he suddenly forgot about.

Solaire frowned. She made no move to put hers on.

"And why don't you?"

"Because my face doesn't distract me," she sarcastically said, snorting as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Increasingly confused and with his mind far from its usual capabilities, Solaire stared at her as he desperately tried to make sense of it.

"What's wrong with my face?" he finally asked, worried and slightly defensive, touching it with his hands as if he were going to find something catastrophic.

Grian grunted as if he were a fool, unable to see something terribly obvious.

"Wrong? There is nothing wrong with it! That's the problem," she said, pointing at him and making him feel even more self-conscious. "Have you seen yourself? You're, like… literally perfect. Are you a prince or something?" she asked, glancing at him with an accusatory look, searching his face as if she would find her answer there.

Solaire covered his face with his arm, looking at her with only his eyes peeking out from above it, frowning.

"Certainly not," he muttered.

"Is everyone in Astora like this?"

"Like what…?"

"Ugh," she growled in frustration, gesturing in his direction, her cheeks reddening even more. "So… ridiculously handsome."

Oh.

Uncovering himself, Solaire tried to process it and understand it as soon as possible. So she thought he was good-looking, and that somehow bothered her? He didn't know if this was good, bad, or both but didn't have time to find out, for Siegmeyer fell asleep, and Grian immediately stood up, waving for him to follow her.

Finally, they both put on their helmets, forgetting about their conversation. Solaire bit back a laugh as Grian stumbled, nearly tripping over his shield, colourfully cursing. Sometimes he found her fiery temper adorable.

They left the room in silence, or what they considered silent at the time, while Siegmeyer snored. Outside, Grian smirked at Solaire, leaning slightly against a wall.

"We are going to defeat all the enemies of Anor Londo," she decisively slurred.

Solaire nodded, feeling vulnerable without his weapons but deciding it was for the greater good. They were going to test the effectiveness of fighting as human cavalry by uniting the two of them. It sounded good.

He leaned in a little, spreading his arms, and Grian stepped behind him, awkwardly jumping onto his back with a grunt. He grabbed her legs to hold her, and for a moment, he thought they were both going to fall because although he felt unusually vigorous, everything was determined to move around him to destabilize him. It was bizarre. As if that weren't enough, Grian grabbed the front of his great helm, covering the eye-slits, and pulling his head back.

"I can't see anything!" Solaire yelled, firmly planting his feet on the ground as she readjusted on his back and grabbed his shoulder instead.

"Stop moving. I'm getting dizzy," Grian complained.

"What do I do if I can't move?"

"Move forward, don't sway! Ugh … you are… a terrible horse."

Then she decided that the best course of action was to spur him with her heels.

"Uh... oh! No kicking!" Solaire groused, letting go of her knees and lowering his grip to her ankles to stop her, nearly knocking them both to the ground.

Grian laughed, shifting and manoeuvring to move the sword while holding on.

"Okay, okay…" Then she raised his sword as if indicating the start of a charge. "Come on, run!"

He started running down the hall, thinking it was convenient that Grian was very light. It was easy for him to carry her, and he was very fast. When they encountered the first silver knight on their warpath, they charged screaming and smashed straight into their surprised enemy. Grian swung the sword like an absolute madwoman, and he kept pushing. At last, the knight fell dead with an agonized cry.

Then, they decided to continue up the stairs. However, climbing those huge spiral stairs soon proved to be a horrible idea. He wasn't tired, but for some reason, his legs didn't want to go as fast as he wanted when they were merely halfway to the top, and he fell face-first against the steps, with Grian on top of him. She tried to move away, carelessly wriggling and cursing under her breath, and he rolled over, lying on the steps and thinking in some corner of his mind that this would eventually hurt. But it didn't at the moment. Instead, he was in a numb cloud, getting dizzier and dizzier.

"I don't feel so good..." he muttered, his stomach spinning as much as his head. Every time he tried to get up, he inevitably fell back.

"Oh, no… I think you're drunk, Solaire," Grian said, devastated, gingerly sitting on a step and hiccupping.

Solaire looked at her in disbelief and embarrassment.

"I am? Oh, dear…! That is not worthy of a… of a… knight."

"We can't fight if you're like this," Grian said, sighing.

"Oh… oh. I'm so sorry," he slurred with terrible sorrow, suddenly wanting to burst into tears at her disappointment.

Suddenly, Grian stood up, hastily removing her helmet, grabbing the stone railing to lean out, and began retching outside. When she was done, she plopped down again at his side, wiping her gauntlet across her mouth, pale as wax.

"I think I'm drunk too. Shit… Maybe Siegmeyer was… right."

Solaire didn't even remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, he felt like he had spent several days being trampled by a bullock cart. The dim light from the bonfire was blinding, and his head terribly ached. The fact that his great helm wasn't adequately placed didn't help.

He raised his head slightly, narrowing his eyes and trying to understand what happened, noticing something pressed against him. Solaire froze when he saw someone hugging his right side, soundly sleeping. And that someone was Grian, one arm across his chest and one leg over his, seemingly very happily nestled with her head on his shoulder.

Trying not to panic and scrambling to remember something, anything, that would explain the reason for that situation, he felt his breathing speeding up and immediately felt worse. His mouth was dry, and his whole body ached.

What had happened?

If Grian woke up, they would have a problem because he seriously doubted she would feel comfortable with that situation when she always jumped at physical contact. She must have involuntarily moved towards him while they were sleeping, ending up in that strange position. And now he didn't know how to get out of there without waking her.

"It's okay, friend," Siegmeyer reassured him, sitting on the other side of the bonfire. "You were lucky I found you nearby and convinced you to return."

Solaire stared in silence. He couldn't remove his helmet with one of his hands trapped by Grian, so he resigned himself to feeling somewhat nauseous inside while he tried to remember some of what Siegmeyer was saying.

"Heavens… I don't remember anything. I feel terrible," he finally acknowledged, his voice hoarse and his mouth pasty, letting his head fall back to the ground with a sigh.

All he remembered were meaningless sights and sounds, unconnected, as in a fever dream. His head hurt too much to think anyway. Finally, Siegmeyer approached him, offering him a waterskin he eyed with extreme suspicion.

"It's just water," he told him, laughing softly. "Let me help you with the helmet. Mmm. It looks like you're a bit stuck."

Solaire nodded, thanking him for the help and immediately feeling more comfortable, even if his ponytail had come undone during his drunken adventures. Luckily the leather strap had gotten caught inside the helmet; he wouldn't have liked to lose it and permanently go around with his hair loose. He picked it up with his free hand and set it aside. Then he picked up the waterskin and drank. He couldn't even remember the last time he had tasted water but decided it was a wonderful thing he should never have stopped doing, even if he didn't need it. When he lay down again, he felt immeasurably better, his stomach no longer turning and the horrible taste in his mouth totally gone.

Yawning, he pinched his brow.

"I don't know if I want to know what happened," he muttered.

Siegmeyer snorted.

"You two can't hold your drink; that's what happened. You thought it was a good idea to go on a piggyback riding adventure to face all of Anor Londo."

Solaire looked at him, horrified.

"We... what?!"

"Hmm. As I said, you didn't get very far."

Solaire sighed, deciding it was definitely better not to remember anything else and to be thankful that their foolishness hadn't ended with them in serious trouble. The idea of the two of them doing something so ridiculous was somewhat hysterical, but not at the cost of needlessly endangering themselves.

He went extremely still as he felt Grian tense and shift, fearing at first that she was waking up. However, after a few seconds, carefully looking to his side, he saw that her eyes were still closed. She shuddered, burying her face in his neck and making him lose all grip on reality for a few intoxicating seconds. He fought with all his might to stay still, tormented by the pleasant warmth of her closeness and her hot breath against his skin, desperately trying to remain composed as she kept pressing her body to his. At least they were wearing armour, but he still found himself dry-mouthed and cursing his idiocy.

It didn't take him long to realize that she was apparently having some kind of dream or nightmare when he heard her make a low, anguished sound and stir again. At first, he waited in case it passed by itself, but when it didn't, sympathizing with the anguished things she seemed to be living in her mind, he used the arm at her side to gently encircle her and hold her close. He didn't know whether the movement or the pounding of his ruinous heart would wake her up, but thankfully she seemed to be calming down.

Good.

It wasn't very comfortable or helpful with the armour pieces between them, but he gently ran his hand up and down her arm until she finally settled down and went back to peacefully sleeping.

Solaire looked back at Siegmeyer when he heard him chuckle, looking at him with a knowing look.

"Looks like you're pretty besotted with her, friend," he said, laughing even more when he saw his panicked expression. However, Solaire couldn’t reply, not even the most basic explanation: that he was wrong and they were just comrades. He wasn't good at lying, so even if that sentence was true, it didn't contradict Siegmeyer's statement either, and he wasn't going to try to do it, even if his first instinct was to claim innocence. He would rather sink into his own shame at his inappropriate inclination than try to lie outright. "It's quite alright, don't worry. We are still human."

Perhaps, but that only makes it worse in a world like this, he thought, to his own surprise.

It didn't make sense anyway, not if he wanted to keep Grian's respect and growing friendship. Still, he acknowledged it was something he hadn't known how to name for a long time, trying to ignore it. Something that had only existed without form or meaning in the confines of his own mind. He could only hope he wasn't foolish enough to let a moment of stupidity ruin everything, something he tended to do when he wasn't thinking things through.

Chapter Text

Truth be told, Solaire hadn't expected to be so shamefully conspicuous about something he wasn't even fully aware of himself. Yet Siegmeyer, for some reason, had read him like an open book, which was worrisome considering they barely knew each other. He didn't know whether to feel absolutely useless and question his ability to keep things to himself or hope that Siegmeyer was somehow exceptionally clever with such things. For his own sake, he hoped it was the latter, fully aware that if Grian ever became aware of such a thing, she would never look him in the eye, much less tolerate him. And she would be justified in doing so.

"It’s not like... I am not..." he stammered, uncomfortable under Siegmeyer's scrutiny.

Siegmeyer looked away and gestured.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you didn't expect it, but I'm very good at these things," he said with a self-sufficient smile. At least that answered his doubts. "Ahh... I conquered my wife when everyone doubted me, and I taught those fools numerous lessons to court and please their ladies. What do you say? I can give you some tips, and you'll have her at your…"

"No," Solaire hastily interrupted, almost choking on the word.

Did such a conversation have to happen when Grian could wake up and hear everything at any given time? As if he didn't have enough trying to keep his cool while impudently tangled up with the woman who was seemingly stirring improper feelings in him, agonisingly trapped and unable to move without waking her up. He had never been so thoroughly mortified, wanting to jump off the balcony out of the room and disappear.

"Fine, as you wish," Siegmeyer said with disappointment. "But I've seen how you look at her, as if there was nothing else in the world, and I advise you not to let it go. You never know these days. You wouldn't want to miss the opportunity."

Until that moment, he hadn't realised that for some time, his thoughts had been more focused on the woman lying next to him than his search for his own sun. And that made him feel a chill running down his spine. Even if some part of him diffidently craved it, he couldn't afford that kind of distraction ruining his devoted path. He had yearned for his sun with unwavering faith from the beginning, and he wasn't going to let that change as long as he had the will to push against worldly temptations. The mere idea made him feel empty and lost; his sun fuelled his strength. Above all else, it was his greatest desire.

"There are no such opportunities. I would rather not talk about this," he finally replied, ignoring Siegmeyer's sceptical expression. However, he readily honoured his request, shrugging and finally granting him peace. Not only that, but he seemed to settle that he should leave. Solaire hoped he wasn't mad about his logical refusal but soon saw he was quite unaffected when he heard the man laughing and proclaiming that he was eager to resume his adventures.

So he finally stood there, alone, thinking about how to extricate himself from Grian's embrace as carefully as possible. First, he tried to get his head as far away from hers as possible, which caused her to make an annoyed sound in her sleep, and then he tried to grab her arm and carefully lift it off his chest. However, that made her fight the movement and try to hold him again, clutching his surcoat and dragging her leg higher against his. Frozen and burning to the tips of his ears, Solaire muttered a weak prayer to the gods with a tremor in his voice as she pressed her thigh against his, completely flush against his body. He could barely keep his head over his shoulders, trapped by her sweet scent, wondering how she could smell so good when they didn't have regular access to water. Swallowing hard, he felt a raging heat burning down his abdomen, reminding him to keep every bit of concentration so as not to humiliate himself. He was supposed to be above that. What kind of disgrace had he become when he'd always prided himself on having a will of steel? Gods, he deserved Grian's utter contempt for even entertaining those thoughts.

What he wasn't prepared for when she finally woke up a few seconds later, opening her beautiful eyes, was the look of utter loathing after the initial confusion on her face. Solaire hadn't expected ever to see sheer terror directed his way, so he didn't move or try to defend himself when she jerked away from him, shoving him away and sliding backwards. Solaire couldn't deny that although he expected some adverse reaction, he hadn't expected such fear and felt a dull pain in his heart when he saw it so clearly in her eyes. Of course, she had every right to be alarmed or ashamed, but still, he couldn't help the suffocating sensation biting at his insides.

"What…? What is...?" Grian muttered, slowly getting to her feet and wincing, grabbing her head.

"I-I'm sorry," he stupidly said, getting up as well and remaining at a distance, with his hands up in a placating gesture. "I think we moved in our sleep and… well, ah… I didn't want to wake you."

Grian looked at him, narrowing her eyes and assessing him, surely as confused as he had been when he had woken up. Luckily she seemed to trust him, nodding, sitting back down and closing her eyes with a dejected expression. At least there was no trace of that painful dread in her eyes.

Solaire couldn't help but let out a relieved breath.

"What's wrong with me? I feel… ugh…”

"As Siegmeyer kindly explained to me before leaving, we drank too much of his Siegbräu. And, oh… sorry, I should have asked him to leave some water for you."

"Water?" she asked, confused.

"Yeah, you would have felt better..."

"And what happened to your hair?" Solaire stood still for a moment, first confused and then embarrassed when he saw that she was cheekily smiling. Then, abashed, he picked up the leather strap laying at his feet and began to pull his hair into a ponytail. "Sorry, you don't have to do that. It suits you anyway."

She spoke with a serious tone this time, but he finished tying his hair up anyway, looking away. He shouldn't rejoice in her opinion of him, he told himself, turning his attention elsewhere.

"I hope you know that I would never wish to make you uncomfortable," Solaire stated, cursing how challenging it seemed to voice his thoughts when it was usually something he never struggled with.

Understanding washed over her at his words, and Grian nodded, looking away and putting on a grim expression.

"I haven't accused you of anything. I was just startled. I know you're a decent man," she said as if it were absurd to assume anything immoral on his part. He felt even more miserable about his silent yearning. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"I…well, do not worry. I am flattered that you hold me in high regard," Solaire mumbled.

As if deep down he hadn't relished the occasion, even if it all had been a mistake, he thought, ashamed. What was happening to him? He had to get back to his senses and put his thoughts back in order.

"Your grouchy face is making my headache worse. It looks awful on you," Grian growled, rubbing her temples. "I can't go anywhere like this..."

Luckily she didn't seem to remember anything about their experiences under the influence of alcohol because that certainly wasn't going to help her feel any better.

Despite wanting exactly the opposite, or perhaps precisely because of it, Solaire put on his great helm and rose from the ground, picking up his shield before Grian's expectant gaze. She had a somewhat strange expression, no doubt due to the discomfort and annoyance she felt. Yet he couldn't help her at the moment, as much as he wanted to, and he needed to clear his head. He hadn't sacrificed everything to fail and desperately needed to put his priorities back in order.

"I will keep exploring the palace. I have a feeling there must be quite a few people who might need help, and I'm looking forward to finding my sun," he said, and she narrowed her eyes, nodding and keeping her gaze on the bonfire. For some reason, he felt awful, even though he knew he was probably doing her a favour by leaving her alone for a while. She was somewhat more open with him, but that didn't mean she wanted him there at all times. "I enjoyed our reunion. This time I'll make sure to find you before I leave this place."

Grian smiled for a couple of seconds and looked at him sideways before looking back at the flames, nodding. How could that gesture be enough to make him smile back stupidly under his helmet and fill his chest with disconcerting heat? Solaire couldn't tear his gaze away from her features as if he hadn't already scanned them every time he had the chance, with the engrossment with which one would admire the perfection of a sculpture dedicated to the very gods. His blasphemous thoughts didn't even scandalise him, as if plunged into an unusual delirium that, little by little, he had unknowingly allowed to take control and threaten to dominate everything. He knew he had enough willpower to push away this madness, but Solaire also knew that he wouldn't possibly begin to resist until he left the room.

"I wish you luck. But be careful," Grian said, her tone softer than usual, sincere.

He nodded and turned around, trying to ignore the hole writhing inside him. Not even the Dark Sign was so deep and searing, leaving him with an emptiness in his chest that, until now, he hadn't even known how to recognise. At first, it had been so small that he hadn't noticed it, steadily growing while he remained ignorant, but the knowledge of what was happening had thrown it wide open. Desperately he clung to his duty, his most fervent passion, and what little common sense he might have left, relentlessly filling that hole with what he truly wanted.

However, as soon as he closed the door, he had to come to terms with something inescapable. It didn't matter what he did or how much distance he put in between. Grian had captured a part of his heart, and whenever he left, he would unavoidably leave it where she stayed. That part didn't care for his sun, and his integrity was too important to keep only half of anything and risk walking the fine line of trying to have both.

As if humiliating herself in her sleep hadn't been enough, Grian had apparently made Solaire terribly uncomfortable. She couldn't even imagine how upset he had to be to show it so clearly, and she couldn't help but burn with shame over something she couldn't even control. No wonder he had wanted to leave without delay. But she had still wanted to pathetically ask him to stay.

She blamed the chaotic state of her mind, and everything she had recently experienced and getting drunk hadn't been particularly helpful.

If Grian knew why she had been so terribly startled to see that she was clinging to a man, she would've told him, but she had no idea other than the noticeable awkwardness about the improper situation. In fact, to her complete and utter embarrassment, the only thing she remembered from her time sleeping was feeling immeasurably comfortable, warm and safe. She felt fully rested for the first time in an eternity, even if she felt sick at that moment and had an excruciating headache, so much so that that pleasant feeling lasted long enough to have pushed aside the anguish and pain that assaulted her at the beginning.

The shame still reigned, however, now that she was fully aware. Even more so seeing how uncomfortable Solaire had been.

Trying to maintain what little dignity she had left, Grian vowed never to fall asleep less than two steps away from him. She couldn't believe how inappropriate everything had been, how she'd gripped him, needy and unseemly.

Grian got up and got ready, deciding she didn't feel like spending more time alone at that bonfire. She walked through the palace's white marble corridors and stairs, meeting silver knights everywhere while trying to distract herself. Soon she was too busy fighting them to focus on what had happened before, trading the pleasant sensations she didn't want to acknowledge for bumps, cuts, and bruises.

Her first encounter with one of the invaders Siegmeyer had mentioned was in a room filled with dragon heads mounted on the walls as trophies. It was clear that the gods liked to remind everyone that they had been victors over the old beasts, though some were so ridiculously small and malformed that they were more pitiful than worthy of admiration. Grian was able to defeat the invader, but the next one caught her by surprise around a corner with a massive greatsword and killed her immediately, returning her to the bonfire after stealing her energy.

The way back to what she assumed was the hallway was tricky, requiring brute force, speed, and stealth to get out alive. To her surprise, when she reached that point, the orb in her bag began to shake, and when she took it out, the eye was glowing, staring at her wide open.

Swallowing hard and focusing, she took the item and waited for it to work, finding that all she needed to do was think for the spell to work. She was soon wrapped in luminous sigils, and everything went dark. When she got up, and her vision returned, she found herself in the same place, but with three people walking towards her from the back of the hallway. Two of them were phantoms, but the other was Lautrec. Just as she had expected.

"Well, look at you," the murderer's voice scornfully rang through the hall, advancing towards her with his allies flanking him and his twin shotel at the ready. Grian immediately went on guard. She hadn't expected to have to fight three enemies at once. "I thought you would be wiser than to challenge me, but I thought wrong! I would say it is a shame, but alas, it is not. You have come to me like a moth flittering towards a flame. You fellows? No? Don't you agree?" Grian made a ghostly sound that she hoped sounded extremely rude, knowing he wouldn't understand anything anyway. Lautrec laughed, his posture that of a confident predator. "Where is your little Sunlight friend?" Grian hissed. "Oh, it does not matter. I will find him and let him know of your pitiful fate. First, I will gut you out here, and then I will find you in your world. After that, I will slowly kill you, and your friend and I will discuss the event with my shotel twisting in his heart."

Snarling, Grian took cover as one of Lautrec's phantoms fired a magical missile at her. The pain of the energy reverberating through her body made her grit her teeth, and she barely had time to parry the blow from Lautrec's shotel as he lunged at her. The damned weapons nearly shattered her defence, puncturing her armour and bypassing her shield, but she kicked Lautrec aside and rolled, slashing at the other phantom. She managed to cut off his entire leg but couldn't avoid another shot from the sorcerer in the back, causing her to almost fall against a pillar. Then, taking cover, she used it to finish off the man with the spear, deflecting the attack he launched at her and cutting through the man's chest.

She received a gash across her calf from Lautrec's shotel as the summoned phantom died, finally dodging the assassin's relentless attacks to run to the mage. Like a whirlwind, she brutally knocked him down with the shield, striking him with the sword's pommel and bringing it down on his neck as he struggled. Again, Lautrec came at her from behind, burying his weapons in her back.

Grian let out a ghostly scream, enduring the horrible pain and spinning around, feeling the strength drain from her. However, she didn't hesitate and launched herself against Lautrec.

The combat was raw and merciless. However, Grian had an advantage; despite the pain, she wasn't at risk of entirely dying, thanks to being a phantom. She had a better chance thanks to Lautrec's arrogance, so no matter how skilful he was, she ended up brutally pinning him to the ground. She had one of his weapons stuck in her belly, under her cuirass, piercing her organs, but she pushed the pain and Lautrec's taunts away and kept fighting him. In the end, she knocked him down, destabilising him, and she wedged the blade between his helmet and his breastplate, removing his helmet. Grian saw his pale face and long dark hair, his mouth full of blood contorted in anger, and it reminded her of someone, though she was sure she hadn't seen his sharp features before.

Growling, she plunged her sword into his neck, watching his gurgling expression as he died, and dropped to his side. Her last vision was of the man drowning in his own blood, and her last action was consciously absorbing all of his energy and souls, including that of the Fire Keeper. Lautrec wouldn't rise again.

After a long time touring the palace and searching every corner, Solaire wasn't any closer to finding his sun. The thought of it not being in Anor Londo after getting his hopes up was maddening, but he was beginning to consider it. Where could his sun be if not in the radiant city of the gods?

He decided to channel his growing anxiety towards helping pilgrims in need, but fewer and fewer reached that point with their sanity intact. The abundant number of invaders made it clear. People were desperate and did whatever it took to avoid running out of souls and Humanity, but he wished to remind them that there was another way. They could stay strong without turning on each other. He could help each of them defeat the invaders and the guardians waiting in the chamber beyond the hall.

Ornstein and Smough, apparently one of Gwyn's Four Knights and his royal executioner, brutally guarded the deepest part of the palace. Pilgrims who spoke of it in hushed whispers said that a deity apparently waited behind them, so he pinned his last hopes on defeating them and reaching that point.

Solaire headed for the bonfire again, strengthened and determined not to fail, but was still unable to stop his heart from skipping a beat when he saw Grian. Pretending it didn't happen, he approached her, carefully dropping his shield and sitting on the floor in front of her. She looked up at him.

"Oh, hello," he greeted her cheerfully. "How are you? Did you get on your way?"

Grian sighed, nodding.

"I went after Lautrec," she said. "When you left the Shrine, Lautrec murdered the Fire Keeper and stole her soul. I have dealt with him and will try to revive her if I make it out of here."

Solaire felt a surge of concern at the revelation and imperceptibly tensed at her words.

"Did you face him alone?"

"Yes, and now he's dead," she replied with a shrug.

Such a reckless and headstrong woman. He would've gladly helped her if she'd revealed the information before, considering that Lautrec looked like a capable adversary, but he was glad the matter was settled. Solaire couldn't help admiring the strength and determination of that woman, fearless and kind-hearted despite her bravado, but he was also worried about her safety. Sometimes, he got the impression that she wasn't terribly concerned about it herself.

He was surprised to see that Grian was unusually talkative, so he gave in to her unusual demeanour and intently listened for a change, as he was often the one filling the silence. She explained her encounters with various invaders, how she had found strange and fascinating things around the palace, and detailed how she had defeated Lautrec, surprising him with the fact that he had been accompanied by two allies. At a certain point, after having erupted into laughter when hearing her detailed hatred for an archer outside the bonfire area, Solaire waited while she tried to remember something that had slipped her mind. He couldn't help but warmly stare at Grian's endearing expression, fully enfolded in remembering whatever eluded her.

"I think it was… hmm… No."

"It's okay if you don't remember," he replied, chuckling softly.

"Wait… oh! The gargoyle! There was a gargoyle similar to the ones we killed in the Parish, and I cut off its tail, but I left it lying there. Well, one of the invaders attacking me carried the thing like a weapon and tried to chop my head off with it, the asshole! He almost did it, but I defeated him out of pride over how pathetic such death would've been," she said, grinning and looking at him with satisfaction when she heard him chuckle inside the helm. He was so happy to see her letting loose, enthralled with her softer expressions and friendlier attitude, that he could just enjoy idle chat sitting at that bonfire for an eternity, staring at her bright face. "What about you? Anything new?"

He enthusiastically told her about his exploits helping other people, what he knew about Ornstein and Smough to prepare her for that battle, and kept the fact that he couldn't find his own sun to himself. But, when he finished and promptly stated that he intended to be on his way again, a grim look crossed Grian's face.

"You just got back," she muttered, almost inaudibly, a sullen shadow crossing her eyes.

"Certainly, but..."

"Forget about it. I hardly remember anything from the time we spent with Siegmeyer, and I wanted to spend a while longer with you because…" she growled, and he cut her off.

"You really are fond of chatting with me, aren't you? If I didn't know better, I'd think you had feelings for me!" As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to punch himself for being so absolutely idiotic as to say such a thing, even if he didn't mean it. His tone had been teasing, though he could tell how it might've looked like he was straight-up flirting. The worst thing was that he might've been. Seeing Grian's expression draining of all colour, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging half open, he forced himself to keep the humorous tone to try to salvage the situation, nervously giggling. "Oh, no! Dear me… pretend you didn't hear that. It was a terrible joke."

Of course, he had to speak without thinking, just as he feared. He knew making such implications, even in a friendly tone, would end badly, especially when he was dealing with his own feelings in a rather mediocre way. He'd still had to ruin everything and say it.

"I take back what I said. You can leave whenever it pleases you. I have nothing left to say to you," Grian muttered with a direct and indignant look.

Solaire looked down, his chest tightening at her reaction. Unsurprisingly, Grian was ready to cut short any insinuations, even if it wasn't serious. With anyone else, he wouldn’t have taken a negative reaction to his teasing to heart, but he was aware for the first time that it couldn’t be the case with her anymore. He cared, deeply so, about her opinion.

I'm doing an excellent job putting my feelings aside, he grievously thought. And I told her I didn't want to make her uncomfortable too. What a gentleman.

"Yes, I'd better get going. I... Forgive me," he ruefully said, quickly noticing that she didn't seem to want to be appeased at that moment.

The fact that he had ruined their time together over a stupid jest hurt deeper than knowing that the mere implication of having feelings for him wasn’t welcomed. That finished cementing his resolve to bury everything and focus on his objectives, for a real insinuation followed by her rejection would be too much to bear. He had to keep helping people and find his sun. The yearning would pass, or so he hoped.

He got up and grabbed his shield, leaving and hoping they could sort things out.

Too proud to give in so soon, Grian refused to look for Solaire's sign. Not even after repeatedly dying through the halls and corridors of the palace, trying to find her way. In truth, her irritation had subsided shortly after Solaire backed off after his teasing comment, deciding that she might've overreacted to simple, roguish banter. When she heard his joke, her first reaction was to panic, fearing that he was accusing her of something salacious, immediately followed by embarrassment and then anger when she thought he was trying to laugh at her for opening up instead. Later, with a cool head and without being so defensive, she understood that it had been merely a silly joke for which Solaire had already apologised. There was no need to blow it out of proportion when she knew he would never try to shame her for being earnest. He just had a big mouth and a jolly, if not sporadically brazen sense of humour.

She did not look for him, though, still slightly annoyed. Even knowing that it hadn't been malicious at all, she couldn't help but feel ridiculous about it. So she decided to invest her time in helping others who might need it instead of wandering around in a sour mood.

"I'm losing my mind," the host uttered. He was a sorcerer with trembling hands and a lost look to him, and he wouldn't stop nervously talking as they walked through a corridor after being wounded during a hard fight against two silver knights. The other summoned phantom, an unknown Warrior of Sunlight in heavy armour, shrugged. Grian stood still, waiting while the host decided what to do. "I wouldn't have made it this far if it hadn't been for Solaire and other friendly souls. I'm not sure I can do it."

Grian raised an eyebrow inside the helmet. So this guy knew Solaire too… It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, considering he was always happy to meet new people and form a friendship.

The other phantom seemed to sigh, tired of the host's complaints, and insistently pointed towards the way so they would continue. The host nodded, and Grian followed him, absentmindedly thinking about how Solaire had been able to help so many travellers. It was strange to think that he could touch so many people's lives, making her wonder if he was so involved and close with everyone. Everything pointed to that, seeing how he had acted towards Arnulf and Darelle and how he'd shared so much time with people who cherished him. Grian felt something unpleasant, uncomfortable at the possibility that she was actually just another face to him, and one particularly bitter and disagreeable at that. She attacked the silver knights with particular rage, frustrated with herself. Why would she even care? He had every right to do as he pleased.

It was quite telling that she knew nothing about him beyond his warm, outgoing persona. She didn't know if he remembered things about his home, if he had a family or why he was the way he was, and it was the first time she admitted to herself that she'd simply been too inconsiderate and cowardly to even try to find out. Funnily enough, she had been curious about him even when she hadn't particularly enjoyed his presence ever since she saw him on that balcony looking at the sun. Still, she had never bothered to go deeper. On her end, Grian curtly hinted that she didn't have much to tell because, to her embarrassment, she couldn't remember practically anything, and he had respectfully avoided asking. But she had simply ignored that maybe that wasn't the case for him, taking refuge in her fear and insecurity.

It was utterly ridiculous how she started out angry with him and ended up mad at herself.

Ornstein and Smough were a nightmare she would rather never have had after believing she had the palace under relative control.

To say she took an embarrassing beating in her first encounter helping the sorcerer would be putting it too lightly, and even upon returning to her own body, she could feel the rumble of lightning and blows etched into her bones, shaking and gazing into the flames. Solaire had warned her about the old knight and the royal executioner, but even his detailed descriptions of their attacks and aggressiveness were not enough to prepare her to suffer it herself. It wasn't very nice to be crushed under a giant hammer, electrocuted, and run through by a spear, even if she had been a phantom.

After countless unsuccessful attempts in the company of hosts and other phantoms, she was fully aware that she would not possibly make it in her own world if she refused to summon anyone. And even if she wanted to, the summoning signs were vague and fleeting, indicating that their owners were also succumbing to Anor Londo or far too busy. She realised she should've asked Solaire to teach her to recognise particular signs before he walked off, but it was too late.

As if that were not enough, the number of dark phantoms drawn to her like leeches in her moment of need was maddening, not only doing whatever was necessary to win and kill her but also jeering if they succeeded. Gone were her first encounters, and the anecdotes bearing a certain humour. She was tired, in pain and weaker each time she ventured through the halls.

Carrying Tarkus' ring in her clenched fist, she left the bonfire room with a grim look chiselled on her face, dragging her feet. She'd had it just as bad in previous situations, and now more than ever, she knew she couldn't give up, but it was hard to feel driven when she'd been humiliated so many times.

Pausing in one of the palace rooms, Grian slightly tilted her head and stopped before an elegant bed, looking at the paintings on the walls and the canopy and turning her gaze towards the glass windows that let in the golden light from outside. Whoever had occupied that place had been lucky and evidently highborn, but now it was empty and available to investigate for any passer-by.

She approached the table with a delicate tea set.

Grian didn't remember much of her past, but she was sure she had never been surrounded by excessive opulence. She sighed, carefully pocketed the ring, and readjusted the shield's weight on her arm. No, the pain of combat, loss, rugged terrains and the weight of her weapons were way more familiar than any luxurious beauty. Perhaps she didn't envy such sumptuousness, but she had to admit that she still would've longed to have enjoyed a comfortable home beyond what little she remembered from her blurry childhood.

Frowning, she mused over that feeling while she emerged into the upper courtyard of the palace, the highest point she had been able to reach at that moment. Blinking when the sunlight hit her eyes, she wondered if she was living in her own paranoia or if the sun didn't warm her face as much as it should. It was almost ephemeral, like a cold autumn dawn.

She pulled off her helmet and focused on the soft air caressing her dark hair and pale skin, tucking it under her arm. Slightly dizzy, she suddenly needed to feel any minor pleasant sensation to anchor her to the real world.

Staring blankly at her feet, she tried to imagine what it was like to have a quiet day, enjoying things like beds, tea, tables, beautiful paintings, and glorious views. To have people she cherished who weren't dependent on the vagaries of space and time and were continually subjected to death. What would it be like to feel the sun's warmth in its full glory once again? An impossibility.

She brought her hand to her chest, where the Dark Sign twisted behind her false humanity, dry and aching, and she wondered once again why, why her, why humans, why such madness. Why not die once and for all? Why forget everything and rot slowly, imagining things she had not had while others slipped through her fingers.

Startled, with her trembling hands clenching on the marble balustrade, Grian bit back a sound of surprise as she realised she was not alone.

"Is it not exhilarating? So prodigiously beautiful, yet…" Solaire mumbled in utter fascination, standing next to her, looking out at the breathtaking views lit by the warm golden rays of the sun.

Grian hadn't even stopped to take in the sights closely. She was too busy trying to regain control of herself. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a few seconds, pretended she was fine, and then looked at the city. The roofs of palaces and buildings kept a waning and welcoming warmth, but Grian still felt cold behind all that.

She had dreaded an awkward moment with Solaire the next time they met, but he seemed so focused on watching the sun that he hadn't even fully noticed her.

"I know," Grian said, pushing back her ridiculous urge to leave to avoid any discomfort. The darkness inside her was suffocating, and though she felt as though she was expendable when he had his attention set in the sun, she'd rather have him close and distracted than alone. The sweet warmth Solaire radiated with his mere presence, his spirit and resilience were a hundred times more powerful than the rays of the dying sun clinging to the last throes of the Flame. She could understand why so many other people craved and appreciated his presence.

Solaire made a thoughtful sound, and Grian looked sideways at him, absorbed in how the red feather on top of his great helm and the fur of his pauldrons fluttered in the wind.

"There is something unusual here, though I couldn't put my finger on exactly what. The sun is magnificent, but it doesn't keep the cold at bay. How is that possible?" he wondered, looking intently at the sky full of leaden clouds bathed in cascading sunbeams.

Grian shrugged, lowering her gaze momentarily when she heard from another the same thing she silently had blamed on her own misperception.

"May I ask you something?" she suddenly inquired.

"Of course," he said, without taking his eyes off the scenery.

"Is it worthy, that sun you're looking for? And, what does it look like?" Grian asked, looking at the dying sun for a few seconds.

Solaire made an amused sound, considering the question for a moment until he answered confidently.

"I will know when the time comes. It will be worthy and absolutely radiant."

"It could be dangerous," Grian said, wrinkling her nose.

"Oh, ho, ho! Everything is dangerous nowadays. I’m not afraid," Solaire said with a shrug, laughing. It was his turn to stop looking at the skies and look at her sideways through the great helm's eye-slit. Grian could see his electric blue eyes shining with determination and sudden acknowledgement as if he had noticed for the first time that she was the one standing there. "As the world burns away, we must fearlessly cling to our duties to keep going. You cannot give up or succumb to your doubts."

Grian couldn't help but soften her face and let out an unconstrained breath at his encouraging words. She held his gaze without saying a word for a few seconds, and, to her surprise, there was no awkwardness. There was only the soft breeze and the distant song of birds, an echo of the emptiness reigning in a city that had been bustling and prideful in its glory days. In Solaire's eyes, she saw only understanding and warmth, and she could see by the wrinkles under his slightly narrowed eyes that he was softly smiling inside his helmet.

"I want us to be okay," Grian said, not pretending to beat around the bush, but still slightly flustered for her much-needed sincerity. "I'm still very jumpy and... well, defensive when I shouldn't be."

"You have every right to disapprove of my words," Solaire stated.

"Sure. But you were just being you. And me disapproving of your words shouldn't be such a dramatic affair. I could've just laughed it off and told you to screw yourself instead of making you feel like you cursed my entire lineage. I have to get better at dealing with casual annoyance."

"I'm still deeply sorry for upsetting you," he stubbornly replied.

Grian shook her head, letting out a dry laugh.

"Did you just hear what I said? Sometimes, I forget that you aren't just chivalrous but a dolt too. Stop feeling guilty. You seriously make it impossible to stay mad at you."

Solaire chuckled softly.

"I guess I'm glad that's the case. But you should stop feeling guilty as well. I have no problem taking the blame on this occasion and moving on," he kindly said, stepping away from the balustrade, as if to prove his point. "Come now. We should go and help our friend, the good knight from Catarina. I think he's… stuck."

Grian raised an eyebrow, sighed, and pushed away from the balustrade as well, putting on her helmet and following him through the courtyard.

"I swear I'm going to chain that onion to a column in Firelink Shrine and forget about him. I'm not going to clean a path throughout Lordran for him after he poisoned me," she mumbled.

Solaire guffawed, shaking his head, knowing full well by now that she wasn't going to do such a thing and that she really didn't regret their time having fun with the Siegbräu, embarrassing moments aside.

Chapter Text

"I don't understand how you always end up in these situations, Siegmeyer," Grian mumbled, tiredly dropping her shield to the ground with a thud.

"Mmm… oh-hoh! Luckily I have you two, but you should have waited for me to come up with a proper plan! It was too risky; those inhuman knights could have torn you apart," Siegmeyer replied, reproachfully looking at both Solaire and Grian despite his glee for their success. 

Grian snorted.

"Right. I could grow a full beard before you decided to take action."

She heard Solaire quietly chuckling despite his attempts to hide it with a light cough.

"I'm just asking for caution. I wouldn't want anyone to suffer unnecessarily," Siegmeyer grumbled.

With a conciliatory and decided demeanour, Solaire placed a hand on Siegmeyer's armoured shoulder, intending to defuse the situation.

"There is no need to worry, my friend. We know what we're doing," Solaire confidently stated.

It was an undeniable truth that they had fought like an unstoppable force as soon as they entered the room full of silver knights. The encounter had been brutal and relentless, and yet there was no need for words for them to efficiently destroy their enemies in a whirlwind of blood and steel.

Siegmeyer sighed in defeat.

"Very well. Young people are always so impulsive... But don't get me wrong, I appreciate your help. Allow me to give you this as a token of my gratitude," he said, rummaging in one of the small leather pouches at his belt and pulling out a small, plain silver ring with a tiny pink jewel. He spread his palm open, offering it. "Please accept it."

They both remained silent, looking at that ring without moving until Solaire intervened when he saw Grian wasn't going to.

"That's not necessary, you can…" he began to say.

"No, but I offer it to you anyway," Siegmeyer cut him off.

After another couple of seconds in which Grian made no move to accept the gift, Solaire finally reached out and took the small ring, nodding. Pleased, Siegmeyer let out a long mmmm, put his zweihander on his shoulder and walked into the room they had just cleared, surely eager to get stuck once again.

Once they were alone again, Solaire wasted no time pointing up the white marble spiral stairs that led back to the upper courtyard with a slight tilt of the helmet. Following him, Grian recognised she wasn't comfortable accepting valuable gifts, tremendously pleased that Solaire took the ring before her. But apparently, he had other plans.

As they went upstairs, she saw him trying to put it on, failing to get it to fit any finger on his broad hand other than his little finger, though Grian would swear he was trying it on too loosely. So, as they stepped back into the shimmering sunlight of the courtyard, Solaire turned, stopping Grian dead in her tracks and extending his clenched fist towards her. Frowning inside her armet, Grian looked at him without saying a word. She was sure he was smiling, his blue eyes shining with serene mischief and reflecting his premeditated intention to carry out what he had decided from the very moment he took the ring.

"You should be the one keeping it. It doesn't fit me. Also, the last silver knight fell by your sword," he resolutely said.

Grian shook her head, turning her gaze away, feeling harassed by that ridiculous smile reflected in his deep blue eyes. She was perfectly aware that he was just being a nuisance because he knew she didn't want it, and even if she didn't understand why he did it other than possible entertainment, what she did know was she wasn't letting him get away with it.

"No. It's yours. It was your idea to go help Siegmeyer," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as if preparing to argue.

"But it's no use to me! And you fought by my side, whether it was your idea or not," the knight counterattacked, bringing his clenched fist closer to her as if he were gaining ground that way.

Grian puffed. At first, she hadn't wanted the ring simply because of the discomfort of accepting a gift she didn't know how to treasure, but now it was yet another battle for her pride. And funnily enough, it seemed that the joyful Warrior of Sunlight was too much of a tease for his own good despite his righteous façade and took some kind of pleasure in testing her aloofness. Seeing she had quite the reaction to his last brazen attempt, he was getting more subtle.

"Is it so hard for you to accept that you were the moustachioed onion's saviour? I was merely there as support," Grian said with a finality the knight wholly ignored.

In fact, Solaire was far from giving up.

"I seem to remember it wasn't me who helped him twice at Sen's Fortress," he quipped, tilting his helmet towards her so she couldn't avoid looking at him. "Oh, Grian, you have no chance in this dispute! You have done a better job helping good old Siegmeyer and rightfully deserve his gratitude."

Grian blushed without knowing why at his confidence and close staring, grateful that she could only catch a glimpse of his eyes through the great helm eye-slit, and she was wearing a helmet as well. He could be incredibly annoying when he wanted to, but she bit back any possible shred of irritation, surprised that it was easier than she'd thought. But still, Grian wasn't going to give up. She looked right at him again and got closer, aligning her helm's eye-slit with his and pushing back any discomfort.

"Sen only counts as one, and I did it because I had to go through that way too."

"It doesn't change the fact that he wouldn't be here without you."

"Nor all the travellers you help with your summoning sign, and I don't think you are collecting jewellery from each one of them," Grian said, huffing and dropping her arms.

Suddenly, Solaire reached out and took her hand, slipping the small ring firmly between her gloved fingers. He totally ignored Grian's ecstatic reaction to the contact and the sudden movement.

Trying to keep her surprise in check, she looked down at her hand, now closed around the small piece of jewellery.

"You don't have to wear it, but I'm sure Siegmeyer would love to know you have it," Solaire said, gently placing his hand on her shoulder for a brief moment and walking towards the other end of the courtyard.

Considering for a moment throwing the ring at the back of the bucket he wore on his head just to have the final say, Grian trailed, grumbling after him.

"Wait, you pig-headed fool," she called, and he stopped, waiting for her to catch up. "How do I distinguish your summoning sign from the others? And don't tell me it has a brilliant aura. They're all equally brilliant."

"Oh... dear. I assumed you knew! You seemed to have no trouble finding me."

"Well, it was mostly sheer luck, but you saw I couldn't find you at Sen's Fortress," Grian pointed out.

"Let me show you," Solaire enthusiastically said, pulling out the soapstone and drawing on the floor.

They set out again as soon as they were done, hoping to go as far as they could with their worlds intertwined. However, as soon as Solaire went from the entrance to the stairs, out of sight for barely a couple of seconds, Grian stopped hearing his steps and knew their hopes were most likely crushed. So she started down the intricate spiral stairs in a hurry, cursing. But there was nothing to do. Lordran had separated them again.

Grian was tired and a bit intimidated, but the words of Tarkus and Solaire intermingled in her mind, reminding her that giving up was not a possibility. She couldn't bend to doubt or give in, allowing that dark, evil voice to possess her again and force her to settle for death when it was something that wasn't even allowed. So instead, she continued, determined to defeat the guardians of Anor Londo once and for all.

The bonfire room was empty, but she drew all the determination and energy she could from that solitude before setting off. It was only temporary. She ran her hand over her weary eyes and cleared her mind to face Ornstein and Smough again.

As prepared as humanly possible, she fought her way through the familiar halls and rooms, missing the pleasant and frustrating feeling that had filled her before, so much so that she nearly groaned in relief at the sight of Solaire's summoning sign. However, she kept her composure as he rose in his customary salutation to the sun, feeling her heart leap with resolve. She didn't say a word, but she knew she didn't have enough strength to keep fighting Ornstein and Smough indefinitely if they failed, whether she was determined or not. Keeping that to herself, she greeted him with a curt nod and a feeble smile inside her helmet, letting him take the lead through the central hall of the palace. Solaire was there to help, and when he did so, he gave absolutely everything. Quite clearly, he did precisely the same for everyone summoning him, but Grian didn't need to feel special when being just another host for him could bring her spirits and strength back.

The battle was exhilarating, painful, and driven by the same connection they had shown previously. Facing Ornstein while he was twice his standard size could easily be described as a maddening nightmare of pain and electricity, a terrifying version of the knight swollen with the power and souls of the fallen executioner. But Grian and Solaire didn't bend to the pain and the rawness of the fight, finally managing to knock down the guardian.

Ignoring the wounds, the burns, and electrocution marks marring her body, Grian jumped up, raising her shield, screaming and celebrating while the souls swelled her chest, powerful and pleasant. Solaire's golden phantom raised his shield in victory, sheathing his sword and looking at her. Grian, filled with recovered energy and the ecstasy of victory, rushed towards him, still laughing and celebrating, dropping her shield and sword and hugging him so tightly that she almost knocked him to the ground. She didn't care that he was a phantom. She didn't care that it was uncomfortable because of the armour or that it was inappropriate. In that moment of unbridled euphoria, it was the only thing she could do to express how grateful she was for his help and presence, with her chest burning with an unknown heat and her breath coming out in ragged gasps, her entire body trembling with adrenaline. But her doubts didn't matter for a suspended moment in time. None of that mattered. She had vanquished the guardians of Anor Londo, avenged Tarkus, and gone beyond. She hadn't felt so pleased, tired, and content in her memory. She just wanted to sink into that wonderful feeling without thinking about anything else, without caring about the strange consistency of the knight in his spectral form. He radiated warmth and safety.

Solaire returned the hug and made a ghostly sound that Grian took for laughter. All the elation of victory slowly faded as Grian became fully aware of the pressure of his arms on her back, pressing her against him. Her body relaxed, and she let out a puff of air, leaning her helmeted head into the knight's green-haired pauldrons and thinking about how she didn't want that soothing moment to end, knowing it would end regardless because it always did. In Lordran, things were shallow, fleeting, glints and reflections on a broken and distorted surface she wasn't even aware of in her fumbling search for anything beyond empty survival. However, for some reason, neither of them moved, and it didn't end. Grian knew it was far too long to be proper or casual, but she didn't care. Her heart dropped when Solaire slowly vanished in her arms like a bright, cosy cloud, but not before leaving something in her hands, taking them as when he handed over the ring to her, this time giving her something small and round, metallic. The knight's eyes closely watched her expression as he faded.

Swallowing, Grian regained her balance. The rational part of her brain reminded her that he had completed his task and was finally returning to his own world, just as any other time before, but there was another that stupidly rebelled against it for a second. And there she was, alone again, with a small, faded metal medallion with the same symbol Solaire had painted on his chest and a bubbling sensation of warmth on her chest. She carefully closed it in her hand, bringing it to her chest and deciding to keep the strange gift, especially since Solaire wasn't there to triumphantly laugh at his victory after having managed to make her accept something she would usually refuse.

That was undoubtedly what Lautrec had referred to with his mockery at Firelink Shrine, the gesture of handing over golden medals amongst Warriors of Sunlight, something she had seen and promptly ignored. Although she hadn't given it any thought, she understood that Solaire was way more perceptive than he let on and had been aware that he would refuse to accept anything, even something commonly given in his covenant. And until that moment, it would've been merely out of discomfort and detachment, for keeping something someone else valued was a casual kind of vulnerability that would've turned her stomach cold. But she discovered she didn't really feel terribly weak or exposed accepting that at that time. Pride aside, she didn't feel uncomfortable anymore with the small ring she kept as a thank you from Siegmeyer, either. It wasn't that bad, was it? It didn't mean that she now owed anyone anything, right? Her instinctive discomfort had no reason to exist around good people.

Well, she owed Solaire a great deal, anyway, gifts or no gifts involved.

Pulling herself together, Grian headed outside to help Solaire, hoping he didn't intend to linger too long around the place. Then, she just waited, pleased as she was finally summoned and appeared before the Warrior of Sunlight.

"Ah, hello! It has been a spectacular battle. I hope we can repeat it," he greeted, to which Grian nodded and tightly held on to her weapons. Solaire brushed past her but stopped, tilting his head and intently looking at her from inside his helmet. "I hope you keep that medal. It's pretty important to me. I would be deeply disheartened if you rejected it because you think you don't deserve it."

Grian wanted to shove him down the stairs for trying to emotionally blackmail her, grunting in a ghostly way and shaking her head. Instead, she settled for a bump with the shield on his arm that the chainmail rendered totally harmless. Solaire chortled, his broad chest rumbling, apparently amused with the half-hearted reaction, and continued walking.

Why does he give it to me if it's so important? I swear he takes pleasure in being this annoying, Grian thought, preparing herself for combat. It wasn't that he was seriously pushing her into anything, she already knew he would never do that, but he seemed subtly intent on making her face her social aloofness. And she had no idea why he even cared to do it.

Again they defeated Ornstein and Smough, using everything they knew about their opponents against them. Grian didn't know if she would get used to seeing Solaire fighting by her side like that, to the exhilarating feeling of rapport and his words or gestures of encouragement when they were in a difficult situation. Seeing him appear as an unstoppable god of war when she'd been struck backwards, covering her with his shield and taking a blow that would have broken another man's arm or charging at beings three times his size without the slightest hint of fear was something that seemed worthy of an ancient ballad. And as if challenging those guardians, he raised lightning bolts against their own, sizzling and making them recoil with sounds of pain. Adapting to him in her own practical but more cautious way, without that level of discipline guiding her movements, came surprisingly easily to Grian. She deftly covered him, keeping him from being cornered and taking any opening he gave her to attack their enemies.

With both guardians dead, Grian smiled inside the helmet. He was apparently as exhausted as she was; he gestured at her raising his shield as before, but immediately after, something seemed to catch his attention. He turned to face the part of the room from which Ornstein and Smough had come, reverently raising his helmet to a light that seemed to emanate from the tall windows. Grian also saw it in her own world, but she couldn't help a pang of disappointment when she saw him leave as if in a trance, without looking back or saying anything to her.

Well, what did you expect? A ridiculous display of emotions similar to yours? she bitingly told herself, suddenly embarrassed that she had held him so close after the heat of battle, carried away.

Feeling strange, she soon vanished and returned to her world, going towards the same luminosity that entranced Solaire. She had to find her own answers.

Standing before the enormous figure of a goddess, the favoured daughter of the Great Lord Gwyn, Grian knelt as required of her and listened to her words. She didn't lay her eyes on Gwynevere as she gave her access to the Lordvessel, which now rested in Firelink Shrine, and spoke of succeeding her disgraced father. She held back all visible reaction, but her heart was beating wildly, and her body shivered under the weight of that ancient and powerful gaze, strangely distant, cold and imposing for a solar deity. However, who was she to question a being so different and elevated?

Her heart sank when she heard her ominous words urging her to stop the sacrifice of any more Undead. For a moment, she rancorously wondered why the gods didn't take that responsibility upon themselves instead of allowing countless mortals to die, but then remembered that apparently some had tried and failed, the Great Lord and Izalith being the prime example.

Grian left the place buried within her thoughts with a new immediate destination. She needed the souls of beings far more powerful than the common monsters and guardians she'd killed thus far. It felt like she was set on a macabre path training her for something she didn't even understand, something too big for her, a faint trail paved with promises of greatness and hope. As pitiful as it was, if there was a chance of ending this insane torture, and she could allow herself to believe in a future without suffering the Curse, saving everyone, she wanted to believe it. She wanted to think that it all had a purpose that her human understanding could not glimpse, that trusting in superior entities was the last thing to cling to.

It's worth it if I can save him. He deserves to live, to really live, and maybe that way, he will have a chance to enjoy that sun that he is looking for. If he ever finds it.

Chapter Text

Squinting at the sunlight, Grian dutifully climbed up the stairs towards the domain of one of Gwyn's most powerful allies. Seath the Scaleless, a dragon. 

It made sense as her next destination, being a short distance away from Anor Londo, and the Fire Keeper of the nearby bonfire didn't hesitate to point her in that direction. However, now the dragon's former relationship with Gwyn was as irrelevant as all the rest, for they needed their souls to regain enough power to kindle the Flame. And they supposedly required her to carry it out.

Grian snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of a guttural growl, meeting a giant armoured boar at the end of the elegant hallway she had just entered. She'd killed a similar one in the Burg, but she hadn't been forced to fight it in such a tight space. 

Steeling herself for the impact, Grian covered with the shield as best she could from the beast's thrusts, hitting it in one of its glowing red eyes and finally knocking it down while it writhed in agony. She hurried down the hallway, unwilling to check whether or not the boar was totally dead, when she came face to face with another one. Shocked, she didn't have time to react before finding herself between its fangs, dragged across the ground and losing her grip on her bastard sword. She tried to seize the barbed, armour-clad fangs to prevent the beast from biting her when suddenly there was a sharp thud, and the beast turned around, screaming. Another thud rang through the corridor, and the creature fell, nearly crushing Grian.

Struggling to get to her feet and checking for any critical injuries, Grian looked past the boar, panting.

"Are you alright?" a female voice asked, one that she immediately recognized as Darelle. And apparently, she remembered her too, for her tone soured immediately. "Oh, it's you."

Sighing, Grian picked up her sword and edged around the dying beast.

"Thank you," she tartly said, stopping beside Darelle for a moment.

"Hmm. Blade, right?" Darelle asked in a haughty but annoyingly sweet tone. "You ought to be more careful. Seath's domain is full of foul and dangerous creatures." Grian just nodded, eager to get away and about to, until Darelle stopped her. "Hey, wouldn't you happen to know where Solaire is? I need to talk to him."

"No. The last time I saw him, he was in Anor Londo."

"Oh… I haven't seen him since Sen's Fortress," Darelle wistfully said, looking away. Frowning, Grian briefly put aside her dislike for the woman when she noticed something.

"Where's your partner?"

Darelle straightened, and the silence that followed her question immediately told her that perhaps she shouldn't have asked anything. Hearing Darelle's snarly tone gave her no pleasure.

"Arnulf fell in Anor Londo," she answered, resting the lucerne against her chest, clearing her throat and raising her helmeted head. She clearly had no intention of entering into any more details or allowing any displays of vulnerability, and Grian wasn't expecting it.

"I must be on my way. Good luck," Grian said, uncomfortable.

They didn't exchange another word, and Grian did just as she said, traversing through the gigantic libraries. She didn't know why crystal-grafted abominations were plaguing the place, but they were exceptionally dangerous, challenging, and aggressive, just as Darelle said. Amongst corridors filled with shelves stuffed with old books, she found murderous channelers and poor wretches, who apparently had to suffer because they were Hollow and someone had horribly deformed them. Grian got lost countless times going through that labyrinth of stairs and passages. She was killed more times than she would like to admit and experienced being devoured by one of those horrible mimics firsthand. It was maddening that all her enemies were armed with magic and arrows when she preferred hand-to-hand combat, but after all she'd been through to get there, she took it and kept going.

Momentarily taking her mind off combat, Grian wondered about the nature of the thousands of books around her, deciding not to touch any of them just in case she unleashed another curse. Either way, she wondered why a dragon would befriend a god apparently intent on destroying its entire race and hang it on his palace walls just to live nearby in a giant library full of abominations. Furthermore, she couldn't understand how a dragon could possibly read books made for human hands, guessing that they must simply be for the mortals serving him, for the idea of a gigantic beast taking a book from the shelf was absurd and surely utterly impossible.

Luckily she found another bonfire on a beautiful balcony overlooking some naked terrain underneath, where she decided to take a rest and recover from all the wounds and accumulated pain. It was only a while before she heard voices moving closer, looking over the flames and seeing with surprise that it was Darelle again, accompanied by Solaire. She was talking quite animatedly, without taking her eyes off him, even though she was about to fall head-first a couple of times because she bumped into chairs or tables. Once he spotted the bonfire, Solaire seemed to drop his guard, sheathing his sword, relaxing his shoulders and quickening his step. It appeared that Darelle had managed to fulfil her wish, but Grian bitterly desired that she hadn't, taking a deep breath and trying not to be unreasonable.

"Ah, hello there, Grian! It's good to see you!" Solaire greeted, setting the shield against the wall and sitting beside her with a weary sound.

Darelle removed her helmet and immediately sat down beside him, her knee touching his. Solaire looked sideways at her for a moment, almost imperceptibly moving his leg away. Grian watched this with interest and some surprise, for the last time they'd met, Solaire had seemed totally unaware of Darelle's flagrant interest. She could clearly see undeniable discomfort in the knight's gaze for a brief moment, but far from being pleased by seeing him uninterested in Darelle's advances, what Grian felt was anger. In that instant, she decided she needed to make sure that expression of uneasiness didn't cross Solaire's eyes ever again. She had to figure out how to do it without worsening the situation.

"I didn't know you'd be coming this way," Grian said, looking at the knight and trying to start her plan by simply talking about something else. "Any luck with Princess Gwynevere?"

An unusual expression crossed Solaire's eyes yet again, shadowed inside the helmet, although it seemed to last only a second.

"I'm afraid not," he said, laughing weakly and looking down at the ground. "She was not pleased with my purpose, really. She… was quite adamant about the sinful nature of my aspirations, unfitting a mere human."

Suddenly Grian felt like stabbing the princess, goddess or not, for daring to be so terribly cruel to him. Instead, she clenched her fist, watching as Darelle put a hand on his arm, supposedly intended to comfort him, but speaking in a shallow and patronizing tone that betrayed her absolute lack of empathy.

"Oh, no, darling. I'm sorry! But don't listen to her; what will a solar deity say about owning a sun? Surely the gods don't want a human to rival their power or steal it while they're at their weakest," she condescendingly said, like she was speaking with a dumb child.

Solaire slightly raised his gaze from the ground.

"That is absurd. I do not wish to steal the power of any god."

"Of course, but they don't know that. They're here to put us, silly little humans, in our place so we don't get any delusions of grandeur. Oh, don't take it the wrong way. Everything is a mess in the world, including the gods. Just keep searching; your sun may be closer than you think," Darelle suggestively said, twisting a lock of red hair between her fingers and smiling at him.

Grian fought back the urge to punch her. Solaire continued to stare at the ground, sighing and shrugging, ruffling the mane on his pauldrons with the movement.

"Maybe. I'll check this place out for now in case it has anything that might help me," he said.

"Of course, and I'll be right by your side!" Darelle exclaimed, sighing.

"Uhm... I'm going to take a nap," Grian uttered, leaning back, removing her helmet and leaning her head against the stone.

To be honest, she didn't really want to listen to Darelle's relentless flirting, and she needed to be well-rested to face Seath and… well, slay him. So she closed her eyes, trying to ignore whatever they were talking about and finally lost herself in a light rest.

Grian half-opened her eyes not long after, seeing Solaire leaning with his arms on the balustrade at the other end of the balcony, watching the sky. He wasn't wearing his helmet and had apparently found peace, from the looks of his calm gesture. She barely had time to begin to appreciate it when she saw Darelle stirring, slowly waking up and fixing her hair. The annoying woman seemed to have been sleeping curled up by the fire.

Unaware that Grian was awake, Darelle walked over to Solaire and placed a hand on his lower back, whispering his name. The knight jumped, startled, and immediately spun around, meeting Darelle squarely in front of him and turning slightly pale under her intense gaze.

"No need to be alarmed. I just wanted to enjoy a moment alone with you," Darelle said, smiling adoringly. Solaire said nothing, standing still and grinning nervously. "As I told you, ever since Arnulf died, I've thought there's no point in wasting time in solitude and ignoring our connection. We've been a good team since we met. You taught me how to be a Warrior of Sunlight. You helped and inspired me..."

She moved closer to him as she spoke, and Solaire backed away as much as he could, seemingly dwarfing under Darelle's eager presence, even if he was taller. Then, unabashedly, she pushed him against the balustrade and placed her hand on his lower abdomen. Solaire seemed to hold his breath, but he didn't push her away, only flinched, his blue eyes wide and glittering with panic and discomfort she had never seen before. Forcibly holding back, Grian quickly thought about ending this without jumping up and creating a terribly hostile situation. She saw Darelle's lucerne on the floor, grabbed it and started to pull slowly, moving it out through one of the gaps between the balusters. It was quite a drop to the bottom, which was sure to get the attention of the absent-minded woman.

"I-I just did what I had to," Solaire said, seemingly trying to find a way to physically disappear without actually diving or slipping past Darelle, to no avail.

"Oh, don't belittle yourself, Solaire. You are unique in this rotten world," Darelle whispered, raising another hand in what she must have thought was ladylike grace and brushing against his face, totally ignoring his terrified expression. Immediately afterwards, with a highly crude and inappropriate movement, she rubbed her body against his, especially her hips, wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on her toes. Petrified, Solaire let out an alarmed sound, leaning back even further but seemingly refusing to simply shake her off, even though he was clearly physically capable of overpowering her. Cursing, Grian continued to swing the lucerne, already dangling almost entirely in the air. If that didn't work, she would have to straight-up brawl with her before a very much shaken Solaire, the only thing stopping her from doing it in that instant. She sincerely itched to smash her face against the marble floor, but Solaire came first. "There is no need to keep yearning in silence. Don't be shy. Let's take what we can from each other and… what…? My weapon!"

The lucerne impacted rather loudly on the ground below, effectively drawing Darelle's attention. As much as she wanted to seduce and grope Solaire, that weapon kept her alive and losing it could be a death sentence. Nevertheless, Grian had no regrets in the face of the possibility that Darelle could stupidly die while going to look for her weapon, shrieking and sobbing with nothing more than a pathetic dagger, getting lost among the shelves in the room. She didn’t even ask for help or stop to think of a better plan than bolting alone through a dangerous area.

Grian rose to her feet, walking over to Solaire and gently placing a hand on his arm to get his attention when she heard his heavy breathing hitching in his throat and saw his lost stare. She immediately withdrew it, feeling him flinch, and took a step back with a pang of compassion.

"Why didn't you stop her?" she asked, moving in front of him and waiting for him to look at her. When he did, she regretted not having grabbed Darelle by the feet to throw her head-first into the void instead of her weapon, seething at Solaire's muddled, vulnerable expression. Grian sighed. "I… I'm sorry."

Solaire absently shook his head.

"I was unaware that she harboured those feelings. Perhaps she doesn't know what she's doing, struck by the loss of Arnulf…" he rambled as if he were trying to deal with the situation the only way he knew how—trying to see the good in people.

"She knows perfectly well what she's doing," Grian cut him off, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Do you feel like her? Because it looks like you clearly don't."

Solaire met her eyes, frowning without even noticing his turned-off countenance. In other circumstances, he probably would have been careful to pretend behind a mask of property, but his sole expression sufficed to answer her question even before he spoke.

"No!" he said in a rushed tone. Then, he cleared his throat, relaxing his gesture. "No, I don't."

Grian made a frustrated sound, trying not to show her anger at that moment.

"Then tell her! She is obviously determined to pursue you!"

"I can't. I don't want her to go Hollow," Solaire said, looking away to avoid Grian's scowling gaze.

Puzzled, she just stared at him in silence for a long moment.

"Beg your pardon?"

Solaire exhaled, with a regretful expression totally out of place on his usually cheerful face. He seemed reluctant to explain it, as if he didn't want to blame someone, even if necessary.

"Before we arrived at the bonfire, she mentioned her journey made no sense, even less so without Arnulf. But then she said that she had found a new reason not to go Hollow, that she would tell me soon enough about it, but I couldn't imagine that she… W-well…”

Seeing red, Grian tried again to keep her rage in check for Solaire's sake. She didn't want to upset him after what had just happened, let alone make him feel bad when it wasn't his fault. Nevertheless, she couldn't help but pace back and forth.

"Solaire… Listen, she's manipulating you! You can't just allow her to do what she wants when you don't feel the same," she muttered at his downcast look. She stopped short. "If you won't stop her, I will take care of this. I won't let her touch you."

Solaire backed away from the balustrade, regarding her with concern.

"What do you intend to do?"

"Whatever it takes. Trust me. I'll figure something out."

"Please, don't resort to brute force or heavy threats. I do believe that she's not in her right mind right now..."

"It’s alright. Just let me talk to her if she comes back.”

They didn't have any more time to talk before Darelle came running back, dishevelled and carrying her lucerne again. Sadly perfectly alive.

Grian stood in front of Solaire, cutting off Darelle, who stared at her in astonishment for several seconds as she crossed her arms with the most menacing look she could conjure. Apparently, she hadn't lost her ability to display a proper murderous gaze because Darelle immediately jerked back at the sight of it.

"I know it was you who dropped my lucerne. Very funny," Darelle sneered. "Now get out of my way, leave us alone, and do something useful with your existence other than interrupting people expressing their feelings."

"I couldn't care less about your feelings. But I care about Solaire's, which is why I threw your weapon out of the balcony instead of your ass. He mistakenly thinks I should treat you with some respect even if you're incapable of it."

Darelle flushed red with rage, shaking and potentially assessing whether to murder her on the spot or not.

Good job not threatening her, she thought, cursing and admitting that it would be harder than planned. But it wasn't exactly easy to bite her tongue with someone she despised openly taunting her.

"How dare you? You envious rat! You can't keep two people so vehemently craving love apart," Darelle spat, pointing her lucerne at her.

Grian smiled disparagingly, not feeling the least bit intimidated and, at the same time, desperately thinking of a way out of this situation without betraying Solaire's trust, resorting to physically fighting against her. Even if she really wanted to. Still, she had to be in control and make sure Darelle left him alone, and something told her that the deranged woman wouldn't give up easily.

"Forget about him. You're wrapped up in your own fantasies. Can't you see he has no interest? He already has someone," Grian barked. It wasn't the best option, but making up that he had a partner else might be the only thing that gave them any advantage.

Darelle snorted contemptuously.

"Do you want me to believe your vile lies? Who is this person, and why doesn't he reveal it, along with the fact that he doesn't want me? Solaire, say something. Shut this harlot's mouth!"

"Oh, no. I'll be the one speaking. He's too chivalrous and wants to stay on good terms with you," Grian cut in, puffing out her chest and deciding that if Solaire hated her instead of Darelle after that, she would at least have gotten him out of the situation. Of course, if she said whatever person came into mind, especially if it was non-existent and could not face her at the moment, she was afraid Darelle would ignore it entirely, leaving her with one option. "You have that person in front of you."

She was tremendously thankful that she couldn't see the horrified expression that Solaire surely had at that moment.

"You? Hah!" Darelle spat, bursting out laughing and enjoying how Grian's face turned red. "I might've believed you to be an unfortunate casual entertainment, at best. You would never have the connection the two of us share. Now move out of my way."

Seeing that Darelle was indeed not going to be easily swayed by such a sudden and convenient lie, Grian cut her off again, saying the only thing that came to mind.

"You should let the cleric who blessed our union in Anor Londo know it's just about casual entertainment and not deep commitment. Of one thing you can be sure; I'm deeply committed to never letting you touch or harass him again."

You are absolutely insane! Oh, that's just genius, right? Gods! You couldn't make anything else up…!, she hysterically thought, keeping herself perfectly stoic on the outside while inwardly wishing to punch herself.

There was a thick silence in which Grian began to think of the best ways to disappear forever and never see anyone ever again. In this case, Grian didn't mind humiliating herself to get Solaire out of trouble, she owed him a great deal, but she did care about humiliating him. She hoped he knew she was only doing it to push Darelle away at any cost and have something to hold on to that didn't require killing her right then and there or simply threatening her, as she wished she could do. Finally, she saw a certain insecurity flashing in Darelle's eyes, hoping to exploit it, but even so, she seemed willing to keep pushing. Then, to her utter surprise, she felt someone against her side and an arm gently encircling her shoulders.

Grian couldn't deny that she had a terribly hard time keeping her composure, knowing that Solaire was desperate enough to go through with her lies when it included a dose of heresy, including fake clerics and all. His arm on her shoulders wasn't a terribly romantic gesture befitting a supposed couple, more of a generally comforting one, but she understood that was logically as much as he could possibly contribute at the moment. And it was certainly more than she had expected to allow her charade.

"No… W-What are you talking about? With the world falling apart, marriage wouldn't be legitimate or possible. Solaire, say something. I beg you, disprove those blatant lies," Darelle pleaded, looking at Solaire with tear-filled eyes.

She could feel Solaire's voice rumbling against her, clinging to her as if that lie was the only thing standing between him and the possibility of that woman brazenly assaulting him yet again.

"I am sorry, Darelle."

At Solaire's firm words, which he surely meant since he felt sorry for her, Darelle began to sob quite dramatically. Grian utterly enjoyed her pain; there was no denying it.

"No… How could you do this to me? I'll make you see reason!"

Without further ado and a last menacing look towards Grian, Darelle turned and walked away. Grian and Solaire breathed heavily as soon as it disappeared, and Grian didn't dare move, covering her face with both hands and growling into them. She felt her cheeks burning as Solaire released her shoulders and stepped away.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. It was incredibly stupid, but I didn't know what else to do if you didn't want me to split her head open. And I've been so close. She's crazy! Please forgive me. I would never, never claim something like that under normal circumstances..."

Of all the possible reactions, Solaire began to laugh. At least he was no longer downcast, but when Grian looked up at him, she saw that his cheeks were slightly tinged with red and colour had returned to his previously pale face.

"Well, I certainly wouldn't have expected that," he admitted, clearing his throat, looking away and scratching the back of his neck. She could imagine that the poor man had never been in such a ridiculous situation before with someone obsessed with him, even touching him without permission, and had been exclusively focused on his righteous knightly path. "Unfortunately, it may not be enough to solve the situation."

"I know. I may have made it worse if she takes it as a challenge, but now I… suppose I have the right to stand up to her every time under the pretence of… uhm… defending my husband?" she awkwardly said, wincing at the strange term. Ashamed, she growled, rubbing her face and not daring to look at Solaire. "I'm sorry… What a mess."

"It's alright. I appreciate your willingness to help me, anyway," Solaire kindly said, sighing heavily and finally letting go of all the tension. However, Grian saw certain things flickering in his eyes even after he relaxed, a persistent discomfort that wouldn’t go away.

Grian went for her helmet, picking up Solaire's too. Things could get complicated, or maybe that was all there was to it, and they wouldn't see Darelle again, but for the moment, things could be as they were before and continue as they always had.

"Let's forget about that insidious woman and go exploring. We don't know how long our worlds will keep in touch," she told him, giving him a brief smirk before putting on her helmet, to which he nodded with a sincere smile of his own, accepting the great helm and donning it as well.

A good time exploring and fighting together was indeed what they needed. Their worlds remained stable, and they took advantage of it by exploring strange corridors, hidden libraries, and shadowy corners filled with enemies. The unnatural crystals mutated everything, even entire sections and their residents, so their opponents had hardened hides that required more strength to be able to do any damage.

By the time they reached the outer grounds of the Archives, they were feeling better thanks to the familiar rhythm of combat and had put the unpleasant situation with Darelle behind them. They stopped near one of the exits when they saw a golden crystal golem, incredibly particular since all the ones they had seen so far had been bluish.

"How peculiar," Grian said, watching as it moved awkwardly.

"Certainly. And… do you hear that? Is there someone screaming?" Solaire asked, tilting his head slightly in the golem's direction as if listening intently.

Grian couldn't hear anything, so she shook her head and shrugged.

"We can go over there and see what's going on."

Nodding, Solaire stood by her side, fully prepared to fight.  Soon, they verified that Solaire was right, that echoes were coming from inside the golem, although they couldn't see anything under the crystalline surface. So they confronted it, and when Solaire finished it off with a bolt of lightning that split its hard surface, it shattered to pieces, and someone fell from within, landing on their knees.

At first, they thought it was Siegmeyer at the sight of an onion-shaped armour from Catarina. However, when they approached the individual and helped them up, they were startled by a female voice.

"It was you who rescued me?" she asked, coughing while struggling to hold herself up.

"It seems so, friend. Are you alright?" Solaire asked, looking at her.

"Hmm. Yeah, I think so. It was just a little cramped in there," she replied with a nervous laugh, looking from one to the other. "Thank you so much! I am Sieglinde from Catarina. I must think of some way to repay you..."

"There's no need," Grian immediately said, thinking about how best to express her curiosity about the situation. "Your name sounds familiar. Are you related to Siegmeyer?"

The woman perked up, turning fully toward her and practically glowing with joy through the armour. Grian could see her merry eyes through the huge eye-slits on her round helmet, and she let her squeeze her shoulders despite her instinctive discomfort.

"Do you know my father? Do you know where he is? Please, I'm looking for him!"

"Uh… yeah, we do know him. He's… a friend," Grian tensely replied, holding back her trepidation and breathing more easily when she released her. "I saw him last in Anor Londo, where he poisoned us with his drink."

Sieglinde laughed happily.

"Siegbräu! Yes, you do know him. Thank goodness, I knew he had to be around here somewhere!" she enthusiastically said, taking a relieved breath and restlessly moving from side to side. "I'm leaving immediately. Thank you very much again."

"It was no trouble! Be careful, and send our regards to Siegmeyer," Solaire answered, waving as the woman raised the small shield in the air and ran across the grassy grounds. He laughed and looked at Grian. "It's the last thing I would have expected coming out of a golem."

"Right?" Grian said, shaking her head and softly laughing. She turned back to the golem-filled meadows, trying to see if there were any more that were a different colour, but they were all blue. The idea of pulling people from Catarina stuck inside each of them gave her a headache. "Do you think that getting stuck in places is hereditary?" Hearing no answer, Grian turned, finding that she was totally alone. Sighing deeply, she looked up at the sky with resignation. "In case you forgot, Lordran, I hate when you do that."

At some point, while wandering through the Archives, she found an elevator and went up to another level. It led directly into a narrow, crystal-filled passage where she had to face a surprisingly tenacious crystal warrior, and climbing the stairs behind him, she finally reached the majestic cave of the ancient dragon. Seath.

The creature was gigantic, pale-skinned, probably blind, and with a torso attached to numerous tentacles. His cavern was a crystalline work of art that housed his body. However, she did not have time to appreciate anything before the dragon attacked with violence to prevent her from reaching him. Even when she did, striking one of his tentacles, all he managed to do was find out that he was apparently immune.

About to die, with several crystals coming out of the ground trapping her in place, she saw the dragon lowering its massive head towards her.

"Pitiful human. Mediocre puppet. Thee shall payeth dearly for thy foolishness. I shall never seeth thee again!"

Chapter Text

A headache was the first thing Grian perceived when she regained consciousness. An insidious, pounding ache at her temples made her terribly nauseous, wishing she was still knocked out.

Trying to focus on the positive side, she realised that her body had entirely regenerated, guessing she was near a bonfire. Still, the pain pulsating inside her head was unrelenting, sending waves of raw soreness through her whole body and making her wince every time it burned through her nerves. She was positive it was all because of that unbearable noise echoing everywhere with an incessant, maddening, metallic sound.

Grian covered her ears, realising that she was no longer wearing her armour. She started trembling and looked around with bleary eyes, panic settling in her stomach at the mere thought of being undressed by her enemies. Then, looking at herself, she noticed she was wearing only her long shirt and breeches, not even a belt, hose or boots. 

She tried to get up to no avail, staggering and nearly falling into the bonfire. 

Refusing to believe what was happening to her, Grian remembered that Princess Gwynevere had given her a blessing to travel between bonfires. Still, nothing happened when she grabbed the spiralled sword's hilt and tried to go away. It had previously worked when she travelled from one bonfire in Anor Londo to the other, so the situation made no sense.

Grunting, she leaned against the wall and finally looked around. She was stuck in a narrow cell, trapped behind bars reinforced with magic crystals and without weapons. The gravity of the situation began to sink in. Grian clung to the wall and cringed when she saw some misshapen blue creature full of tentacles slipping down the stairs with a poor man halfway into what must be its mouth. She could still hear his screams and see his legs uselessly kicking around while the creature made horrible sounds that seemed to indicate that it was terribly agitated. More creatures came down the stairs with a slimy sound, and several tried to get their tentacles through the bars to get her. With no weapons, Grian was forced to stick to the wall and wait for them to give up and leave her alone.

At last, the sound stopped, and the tentacled creatures left, yet they were promptly replaced by other monsters with higher intelligence and malignancy in their small dark eyes. The local guards seemed to be man-serpents like those in Sen's Fortress, and the blue monsters were just their violent guard dogs. One of the man-serpents stopped with a hiss at the sight of her, folding his arms and leaning listlessly against the bars.

With a hateful glare, Grian decided to seize the opportunity and dove for the bars, grabbing the man-serpent's thick neck and trying to choke it from behind, using the bars for leverage. Unfortunately, the monster was far stronger than a human, and though she took him by surprise, he hissed in alarm and lashed out, turning around and thrusting an arm through the bars, finally punching her hard in the stomach. Grian was forced to let go of him, wheezing and trying to catch her breath as she jerked back. Gritting her teeth, she saw that the furious man-serpent was about to open the door to keep beating her up and decided to make a run for it.

Someone appeared down the stairs, draped in black cloth and wearing a misshapen mask, emanating putrid purple darkness. He stopped the man-serpent with a hand on one of its arms, and surprisingly the being stopped, obeying and looking at the newcomer with something akin to fear.

Grian's heart skipped a beat.

It was the man who revealed her name, who seemed to know more about her than herself. He stood on the other side of the bars and gave a twisted laugh.

"You would do well not to tempt the patience of these people. It took me a long time to get Duke Seath to grant me exclusivity over you. He was determined to turn you into one of his pisacas," the man said in his sly voice, apparently enjoying every moment of the situation. "Surely you have seen them, right? They get a little nervous with certain sounds. In their day, they were beautiful maidens, but the Duke's experiments come at a price. You should thank me for avoiding such a fate. Your new husband wouldn't have found it very enjoyable."

Grian schooled her expression into defiant scorn until that instant, momentarily shaken with cold horror at her supposed husband's mention. How did that bastard even know anything about that farce?

"Are you going to tell me who you are, or will we keep playing this stupid game indefinitely?" Grian muttered.

The man grumbled. He gestured to the man-serpent, and it walked away, hissing in irritation. He then leaned confidently against the bars.

"You'll know everything in due time. For now, your little trip through Lordran is over, and you are returning to where you belong," the man spat with a mixture of spite and anxious trepidation.

Possessed by a wave of immeasurable rage, Grian tried to throw herself against the bars again with a savage snarl, but the man waved a hand, glowing red, and she fell to the ground like a helpless doll. Panic ate away at her insides, and she could not move despite putting all her strength and effort into it. Grian could only watch as the man opened the cell door and approached her. Suddenly, everything went dark, and her only thought before losing consciousness was that no one would know what had happened to her.

The stale, musty scent and frigid air pierced through her weary mind. The familiar touch of the cold rock under her skin, the sound of the rats waiting to devour those who stayed motionless for long enough, the decaying flesh, rotting in beings unable to die, everything struck her instantly and mercilessly thrashed her soul. After an eternity trapped in the same place, those were things one could never forget.

She thought that she had escaped, so the sight of the confines of her cell in the Undead Asylum filled her with suffocating despair. For a few terrifying moments, before she remembered that she had been captured in the Duke's Archives, she thought she had dreamed it all. But she hadn't. She endured, fought, and it seemed she lost, for she was now stuck in an old nightmare.

Staggering to her feet, Grian shivered like a newborn, cursing the biting cold and her lack of proper clothing while uselessly hugging herself. But she didn't have time to properly assess the situation before noticing a dark figure high up in the gap in the ceiling of her cell. He was sitting, swinging his feet in the air, watching her like a cat with a caged bird.

"Did you miss it? It's just as you left it," the stranger said, enjoying her panicked and confused look. Suddenly, Grian looked at herself, then at the man, horror and revulsion filling her eyes at the possible intentions he might have. "Don't flatter yourself, little mouse. I have no intention of sullying myself by touching your filthy body. You are not even young or desirable."

Feeling sick, for she was supposed to be stuck somewhere in her mid-twenties since the Curse took hold of her, Grian scowled. She suddenly wished to rip off that man's head with her bare hands. Not only was he calling her old, filthy and undesirable, but he was bragging about exclusively liking little girls. However, he had made sure to render her helpless, trapped there, and reaching him to please her murderous urges was impossible.

"Cowardly piece of shit," she yelled, pacing around the cell.

"I see that fiery temper of yours is still intact. You should thank me for bringing you back where you belong after all the trouble you caused."

"Open the door and come down here, and I'll thank you properly," Grian invited with a vicious glare.

The man laughed, ignoring her threats.

"First, I will grant you one wish, for we will see a lot of each other. My name is Edgert of Carim," he said, with a mocking bow of his head and exaggerated flourishing movement. "And you, my dear wife, infected me with the Curse, you disloyal and dirty whore, eager to flee into the woods to commit even more crimes. You made me lose everything that I was, they brought me to this filthy place, and I had to sink into places you can't even imagine. But the Abyss gave me what I needed; my memories and the weapons to take revenge. So now, my dear, look to the end of that corridor and say hello to your old friend. He is not inclined to help you this time, I'm afraid. Nor should he because you and your friends are why he is Hollow now.

Trembling and desperately trying to deny all memories coming back with those words, Grian glanced down the hallway as she heard a clang and a guttural growl. Then, ignoring Edgert, she sank to her knees and began to mutter apologies as she saw Oscar of Astora walking with his beautiful garb, sword and shield like any other nameless Hollow, dragging his feet. She knew Edgert was gloating at the sight of her shameful pain, but he didn't exist in her reality at that moment, just memories pounding at her brain, pulverising her pride.

She expertly galloped amongst the trees, blocking the knight's path and readying an Amulet of Lloyd. They looked at each other for a few seconds in the darkness of the night, under the full moon. It was clear that she took him by surprise; surely he thought his journey would be one of glory and greatness, but he found himself engulfed in a cloud of smoke that rendered his Estus useless instead, with a rope tying one of his gloved hands, pulling at him from a horse as if he were a calf escaped from its pen. More riders appeared among the trees, pointing their weapons at him as the Astoran knight vainly tried to explain himself and stay on his feet. Some of her companions laughed at his attempts to appear civil, handcuffing him and forcing him to move.

Grian flopped forward, curling into a ball and breathlessly gibbering, her eyes cloudy, feeling as if someone were suffocating her, squeezing her throat harder and harder.

Oscar moved down the hall, muttering and growling nonsense, reacting violently when he accidentally touched one of the Hollows, wallowing in their own pain. Gone was the serene and kind man he had been before death, a man who decided to help a woman who helped put him there as his last action. Now there was only his body left, for his conscience had been cruelly erased.

"Oh, it's painful to remember the past, isn't it? It's the worst torture," Edgert hissed over her head. "Remember the day your pretentious mother was tragically murdered on one of her walks, longing for the warm weather of Catarina. She was killed for alerting your brute of a father of my intentions to take back the castle. And when he left, cursed and bound by his oaths, I decided to take what was mine and add his impertinent child to my loot. Don't you remember how you waited for the great Tarkus to come back to save you after leaving you behind at Berenike's border? Oh… How many nights did you beg for your hero to return? But you were mine and owed me everything for not killing the servants and hanging them on the walls as I should have. In fact, you still owe me a lot."

"Shut up!" Grian roared with all the hate she could put into it, covering her ears.

It was strange, but she could still feel the weight of her father's gauntleted hand on her shoulder as she wept at her mother's white marble tomb. He was still looking for the culprit, but she knew that even if they did find it, nothing was going to be the same. She wasn't going to come back. Now she rested for all eternity in a sunny place, in one of the meadows she used to visit.

She no longer remembered the last time she was able to visit the tomb. The only thing that filled her days was the anger of her crushed pride at the reality of being alone before a more powerful enemy playing with her now that her father was gone. There was no doubt in her mind that the monster was leaving the rest of the inhabitants of the fortress alive because that way, he could torture them too and use them as threats to make her do what he wanted. She had been locked up for months, with the room boarded up except for the door for which only he had a key, and she only had contact with one of his loyalists to bring her food or treat her wounds after the blue-haired monster visited during the nights. Sometimes she tried to attack him while he was sleeping next to her after beating her up, miserably failing in her weak state. Those times she especially needed to have her wounds tended to in the morning.

One day, he claimed they were getting married and was forced out for the first time, handcuffed and wearing a dress that must have been worth more than everything else in the castle. A sick joke, for sure, but one that the terrified clerics legitimised in case she bore him a child, which was thankfully impossible, as he just seemed to find pleasure in inflicting pain without doing anything else other than hit her and verbally humiliate her, leaving bruises and breaking her bones. The day the monster revealed that he was suddenly branded with the Dark Sign after weeks of descending into a paranoid state, she knew she had run out of time. Knowing that she would get the blame for that, even without knowing how to curse anyone, that night, she managed to suffocate him in his sleep. However, she knew he would rise again, so she quickly stole the key and fled into the wilderness. She knew nothing of her father's fate. If he had gone to Lordran, she would never see him again. Deep down, she knew he was dead. He would have returned long ago to kill the monster and retake the castle if he had been alive.

When she opened her eyes again, she couldn't move her body.

At some point, Edgert had entered the cell, glaring at her from behind his mask, leaning against the wall with a pose of hostile patience. He must have been using some spell to paralyse her, meticulously ensuring not to kill her or give her a fighting chance, as that would cause her to return to the nearest bonfire and escape his clutches.

"Don't you think it's terribly pathetic that you have me paralysed when I'm already inside a cell?" Grian growled at him since speaking was the only thing she could do in that immobile state. "Are you afraid of me? Because you should."

Gone was the time when she had cowered in terror before him, no matter how much he was mentally torturing her. Edgert gave a humourless laugh.

"I know you're as brutish as any other Berenike idiot, even if you're a half-breed, and I don't want to let you die. We need to keep talking and catching up," he said, standing up and putting a hand on his mask. He removed it, revealing a face that now seemed strangely skeletal, paler than usual, with deep-set, utterly black eyes and patches of corruption across the skin. He was missing a piece of his lip and eyelid, and his lank blue hair was gone from his head. He crouched in front of her, grabbing her hair to lift her head off the ground, and she bit back a wince. "Doesn't seem fair to have such mane when everyone else is bereft of it, does it? Look at those poor Hollows in the hallway. I'm sure they agree. Let's fix it."

He pulled her into a sitting position, holding her between him and the wall and pulling a razor-sharp dagger from his clothing. Grian contained her anguish and rage while he undid her bun and meticulously cut all her hair, uselessly struggling to free herself from that paralysis. Knowing that he only wanted to humiliate her and arouse any reaction, she didn't give it to him. She didn't curse, threaten or taunt him anymore. She didn't shed a single tear or make a sound. At some point after cutting her hair, when Edgert decided to break her legs to ensure she could not escape, she held back the pain and went elsewhere in her mind.

First, she travelled to the Undead Burg. For some reason, the grey and golden sky brought an unexpected calm to her heart. Next, her mind went to Solaire as if he were still on the balcony where she had first met him, or the Altar of Sunlight, smiling as a comforting warmth filled her insides. Then she went to Andre, to his forge, wondering if she would see him again. It had been a ridiculously long time since the last time they saw each other. 

She went over every event, right up to Anor Londo and her experience with the Siegbräu, laughing with Solaire and Siegmeyer. Oh, Solaire. She just wanted him to be alright, wherever he was. Knowing that she probably wouldn't see him again, she allowed herself to shed a single tear, thinking about how he had become the centre of most of her thoughts. Perhaps it was because of the path they had shared or how he had been the only safe and pleasant thing around her, but she clung to his memory with much more desperation than she had anticipated. She wasn't just clinging to it, but longing for his presence, his joyful nature and irritating insistence on annoying her. The fact that he was incapable of anything mean, too good for his own sake, and seemed to light the way for everyone who crossed his path with a considerate and determined soul, proudly showing a particular madness that went against everything dark and evil in the world. He was blindly looking for his sun, all the while becoming everyone else's. And the fool would probably never be aware of it.

During her time in the Asylum, Grian again experienced shifts between night and day, a stark change after Lordran's twilight stasis. Edgert endlessly haunted her, filling every hole in her memory with painful things. He couldn't know that she also remembered good things that helped her deal with the unbearable situation. 

Tarkus taught her how to ride a horse in spring, and she decided that she could handle the reins on her own, causing the horse to bolt and throw the two of them into a trough. Her mother, named Amelina, showed her how to use the training bow and scolded her for sneaking into the knights' training grounds to try and steal their real bows. She stole pastries with some friends in the kitchens, getting sick right after and going through the castle at night to look for her parents, pouting in pain and sleeping in their bed and having them read stories to her by the light of a chandelier. And also memories with other Undead hunters, laughing and telling stories around a campfire. She travelled on horseback through incredible lands, believing she was ridding the world of a plague and doing good with people who would have given everything for her.

How ironic.

She found out that Edgert had more plans for her, plans she couldn't thwart in her condition. Whenever he was pleased with the continual bullying in that cell, he would bring her closer to the Abyss to corrupt her body and mind. It seemed that he hadn't gone to such extremes to find her merely for personal reasons; there was something or someone interested in stopping her path to rekindle the First Flame. They wanted to keep her in a limbo of uselessness until they could use it for whatever reason.

One night, after Edgert had maliciously reminded her that Tarkus had to choose his duty over her and told her that would always be the case with the people around her, Grian couldn't stop those words from breaking through her defences. She ran her hand over her head, her fingers trembling as she noted the spiky texture of the shaved hair and the scabs from various cuts she'd received in the process. Perhaps he was right, and the people around her were always going to choose their duty or goals over her, either by being forced to it or by their own choice, as it happened with her father, with her hunting companions and eventually would happen with Solaire and everyone else.

Trying to get her mind away from that dark place, she thought about stretching, feeling horrible cramps in her muscles, but decided against it. She couldn't move if she didn't want to feel excruciating pain in her broken legs, with dislocated knees and splintered bones stuck in a forced position, so she could only lie on her back, enjoying the short breaks in Edgert's continuous harassment. It was nighttime, so she amused herself by looking at the few stars she could see through the hole in the ceiling, trying to ignore the noises coming from the corridor. She imagined looking at them in a more comfortable situation, in a world that wasn't twisted and hopeless, perhaps in a garden, on a warm night where she wasn't shivering on the frozen ground.

Frowning, she was forced out of the reveries that kept her sane and turned her head towards the corridor when she heard a crash from that direction. She saw nothing in the dim light from the torches beyond shadows moving around, and after a few seconds, silence engulfed everything again. And then she heard muffled footsteps. Confused, she thought she saw several figures glowing red in the dark, and she confirmed it when they ran up to her cell door. She tensed when she saw that they were invaders. She couldn't see them properly from the ground, with no torches near her cell, but she still saw them peeking through the bars.

Her heart sank as she recognised Solaire in that strange red-and-black phantom with Siegmeyer by his side. They both leaned out for a moment, leaving her stunned when someone howled wildly in the hallway, and something exploded. Breathing hard, Grian rose up on her elbows and began to crawl towards the door, grunting in pain and seeing white dots dancing before her eyes as she dragged her legs behind her. She nearly lost consciousness with the first movement, but if there was one thing she knew, it was how to manage pain. As soon as she was no longer on the verge of fainting, she crawled the rest of the way and grabbed the bars, pulling herself up and leaning out.

Grian immediately recognised Edgert, accompanied by another individual, surely an ally fighting the two invaders. Siegmeyer was sweeping the corridor with his zweihander and managed to severely wound Edgert's companion, but he, in turn, pierced the gap between his armour and helmet with his one-handed sword. Siegmeyer cut off his head with one last blow before falling and returning to his own world.

Meanwhile, Solaire and Edgert fought brutally. Edgert wielded a short sword, dagger, and spells, waiting for any opening in Solaire's defences to strike. Solaire fought with more brutality than usual, using his shield to push Edgert against the wall, charging at him and swinging his sword as if he wanted to slice him to pieces as soon as possible. Thankfully Solaire seemed to have cast a miracle, for he had a light glow around, and Edgert's red hand appeared to have no effect and couldn't paralyse him. Edgert managed to slash his leg during one of those savage attacks, but Solaire seemed to ignore it and stroke upwards with the shield against his head.

Stumbling, Edgert took a step back but cast a spell that hit Solaire squarely in the chest, engulfing him in dark flames and sending him flying against the opposite wall. He didn't have the proper concentration to cast it, though, as he was thrown against the wall by his own spell.

Now it was just the two of them in the hallway, and Grian was beginning to accept that they had found her somehow and were trying to help her. She was shaking and wishing she wasn't so worthless. Swallowing hard and gripping the bars even tighter, she watched as Solaire rose from the ground, weaponless, as did Edgert, who had dropped them after hitting the wall. Then, without wasting a moment, Solaire pounced on him and pinned him to the ground, starting to ruthlessly punch him in the face. Edgert screamed in rage and pain, his mask cracking even as Solaire hit him with his bare hands, garbling his skin and bones with horrible sounds of beaten flesh.

Edgert kicked out and landed several blows into the knight's ribs, but Solaire remained unfazed, punching until the man below him stopped moving. Even from where she stood, Grian could see Edgert's bloody, bulging, mangled face.

Solaire rose, reeling and shaking his undoubtedly damaged fist to relieve the pain and went to his sword, breathing heavily even for a summoned phantom. As soon as he turned around, however, Edgert scrambled to his feet with one last push of strength, seizing his dagger and moving toward him.

"Solaire!" Grian shouted with all the air in her lungs.

Solaire tried to turn back around but couldn't do it in time to avoid the dagger digging into his back. Edgert hung on and twisted it, but Solaire turned with an eerie howl, knocking him to the ground with the movement. He reached behind his back and drew the dagger out, dropping it to the ground and slashing straight at Edgert's neck with his sword, piercing him from side to side. But he didn't stop there, knowing that death would only return him to a bonfire. The knight crouched beside him and began to absorb whatever souls and humanities Edgert had as he shrieked in pain and desperation. He didn't waver and didn't stop until Edgert was utterly dry and weak, choking on his own blood, with no chance of surviving the encounter.

Staggering, Solaire searched through Edgert's clothes as he lay dying until he found the key; then, he sheathed his sword, slung his shield over his back, and went as fast as he could to the door where Grian waited.

Grian stepped back as far as he could, watching with wide eyes as the door opened and Solaire entered like a red and black vision of unbridled wrath. However, all the aggressiveness that he had shown during the fight suddenly disappeared. He crouched beside her, carefully holding out his hand and glancing at her mangled body from the darkness inside his helmet. Hesitantly, Grian took his hand, but as soon as she did, her body seemed to decide that she'd had enough and fell limply to the ground.

Solaire rushed and slipped one hand under her neck, placing another just before her knees and lifting her easily off the ground. Losing consciousness, Grian was grateful that Solaire's invader appearance was as solid and warm as the golden one. It was the first warm thing she had experienced since arriving at the Asylum, so as he carried her through the corridors, she was easily lulled to sleep by his ghostly breath and reassuring presence. Finally, she lowered her guard.

The last thing she noticed was something tenderly brushing against her cheek, which was strange after an eternity where every contact was meant to be painful, and then being delivered into the clutches of a huge black shadow. Flying through the cold air, sinking in the dark, she lost her warmth again.

Chapter Text

"…and do not falter now, I beg you. She must not move."

"Don't worry, lass. I won't let go."

"Neither will I."

Confused and enveloped in a pleasant cloud of numbness and warmth, Grian groggily moved her head. She didn't know why they wouldn't stop talking, but it was incredibly irritating. She just wanted to sleep, and they were making it very difficult, pinning her shoulders to the ground as if she wanted to move and making all that noise. Desperate to let them know they were bothering her, she grunted weakly, finding it impossible to open her eyes because of the terrible exhaustion taking hold of her body.

Someone opened her mouth and shoved what looked like a rag in with a quick, practised movement so she couldn't close it again. She coughed and tried to spit it out to no avail. Before she could understand what was happening, the cloud of drowsiness and pleasant comfort regenerating her body increased to such an extent that she let out a satisfied puff. Then, everything exploded in pain. Unbearable, agonising pain in one of her legs. She couldn't do anything other than instinctively scream with all the air in her lungs, opening her eyes only to see dim lights and shadows with her tear-brimmed eyes. 

Howling, she shook herself with all her strength, for someone seemed intent on crushing every part of her mangled leg to inflict maddening pain. Meanwhile, several figures with inhuman strength held her against the ground, saying things she couldn't understand amid her agony as if trying to calm her down. She looked at them in fear. How could she possibly calm down with someone twisting every nerve in her broken limb like they were trying to debone an animal?

The pain finally subsided, and they released her leg, letting her fall back to the floor and gasp for air, with someone gently holding her head. But she hadn't had enough time to get her bearings when she heard words she wouldn't have wanted to hear, panicking even before the torture continued.

"Now, the other one. Hold her."

Grian began to scream wild-eyed before the broken bones even began to twist, clutching at the arms that seemed to hold her everywhere and searching for compassion somewhere. But there was nothing but excruciating pain, deafened by her own screams, with everything spinning around her and finally sinking into unconsciousness as the next wave of pain hit her.

She couldn't remember feeling so utterly defeated in her life, and that was saying a lot. The thought of moving was insufferable, her entire body weak and vaguely achy despite sensing that she was close to a bonfire. She didn't know if she wanted even to try to wake up. All she wanted was to continue in that state of immobility and sleep, and since no one pushed her out of it to try to hurt her, all she did was change position to stretch and keep resting.

Weirdly enough, as she moved her legs to steady herself, she realised that they no longer ached. They had the same continuous, dull pain that she felt in the rest of her body, nothing else, so she took the opportunity to curl up on her side. She hadn't been able to sleep on her side ever since she ended up in that damn cell, and doing so was like scratching an itch that had bothered her for years. Luckily she had a blanket covering her, so she snuggled into it, curling up into a ball, and set to enjoy that calm for as long as she could.

The next time she woke up, it was by a soft sound. Music. She rose up on her elbows and looked around.

After blinking several times, she saw that she was in Firelink Shrine, and the bonfire was again burning brightly. Confused, she looked around and followed the sound of the music until she found its source. Perched on some ruins on the other side of the bonfire area, Siegmeyer played the lute with a pleased smile. He had Griggs and Laurentius sitting at his feet, the former reading from some scrolls and the latter humming as he absently summoned a flame and played with it, passing it from one hand to the other. At first, she thought she was delirious and dazed, but after a few seconds seeing that it was authentic and simply serene, she tried to accept that it was happening. And that she was no longer at the mercy of the sadistic cruelty of a ghost from her past but in a peaceful area with people who wished her no harm. 

Sighing, Grian glanced to her side as she sensed movement, feeling her heart quicken its pace and her eyes widening at the sight of Solaire, sitting up after leaning against the ruined wall to one side. His sword was resting out of the scabbard, under his right arm, and his shield rested on his other side within easy reach, which was unusual in an area with no danger. Grian then remembered what happened that strange night in the Asylum, that rescue by two familiar phantoms invading her captor, a situation she wouldn't have imagined, just as she wouldn't have imagined seeing Solaire fight so brutally against another person.

"Grianach," he huskily exclaimed by way of greeting. His voice sounded slightly tired but also worried and, for some reason, regretful. She saw his eyes inside the helmet, strangely filled with something akin to sorrow. "How do you feel?"

She made a faint sound, a weak laugh.

"I've been better," she answered, her voice hoarse and a little weak, feeling even worse as she saw Solaire's eyes fill with compassion.

"I should have found you sooner," he said, lowering his gaze.

"What are you talking about? You couldn't possibly know what was happening to me, and it's not your responsibility," Grian said, frowning.

"The things you were going through while I was blindly on my way…"

"It's not your fault. I'm not your responsibility," Grian forcefully repeated, and Solaire looked up from the ground. "I didn't even expect you to come. You couldn't know where I was even if you wanted to."

He saw Solaire's eyes narrow slightly as if in a pained expression.

"I would go where necessary. I would have realised eventually that you were missing, but luckily a strange ally tipped me off about that monster and its intentions to take you to the Undead Asylum," he explained, shaking his head. "I found Siegmeyer, and he agreed to come as well. Thankfully, the stranger provided us with a way to invade your world so that we could find you outside of Lordran."

Grian frowned, puzzled. She couldn't think of anyone with that ability who would bother to do that. She would have to investigate it further when she had the strength, but for now, she just wanted to take it easy.

"Well, I'm here now. Thanks to you two," she said softly, taking a deep breath and looking towards the bonfire. "And I see that the bonfire is back."

"When we brought you back, we took the soul of the Keeper you rescued and brought her back to life. She is the one who healed your wounds," Solaire explained, looking to the side as if remembering something and shuddering. "I'm so sorry we had to hold you while she repositioned your bones; otherwise, they would have healed poorly. The last thing I wanted was to allow anyone to do more damage to you, but…"

"Oh…" Grian muttered, grimacing and vaguely remembering the agonising process, acknowledging that it had been excruciating, but luckily her brain had eliminated most of it. "Well… I guess it was the only thing to do at that point. It’s okay."

Barely convinced, as if he preferred to continue feeling bad despite exculpating him, Solaire remained silent.

Siegmeyer seemed to notice that she had woken up and stopped playing, alerting Griggs and Laurentius with it. They approached, and Grian prepared to endure more activity, which her body didn't particularly want at that instant.

"Dear friend! I'm glad to see you awake. We were very worried about you," Siegmeyer exclaimed, about to hug her but realising that it wasn't the best idea in her weak state while wearing his bulging armour. Instead, he rocked back and forth on his heels, grinning widely. "How are you?"

"Tired," she replied, earning a nod of understanding. She shifted in place, uncomfortable. "Thanks for the help."

"There's no need to thank me. I'm glad I could help you in a time of need!"

Grian nodded, weakly smiling.

"If you need anything, just let me know, please. I'll help you," Laurentius intervened, sounding terribly serious.

"Same here," Griggs said, smiling.

Not knowing what to say to those eager displays of kindness and compassion, Grian couldn't help but feel awed and slightly helpless, as if she were suddenly just a victim to be tended to. She wasn't used to this, to feeling small and vulnerable again instead of a force to be reckoned with. Luckily Solaire intervened.

"Why don't you play something quiet, friend, so Grian can sleep?" Solaire proposed, looking at Siegmeyer.

Siegmeyer looked at Grian questioningly.

"Won't the music bother you?"

"No, I actually appreciate it. I haven't heard music in ages," she replied.

"Say no more, lie down and relax, for you are about to hear the most beautiful chords," he proudly proclaimed.

Siegmeyer, Griggs, and Laurentius sat down a few steps below, next to the bonfire's flames. Griggs and Laurentius went back to their business, chatting quietly to each other from time to time, and Siegmeyer began to play the little lute. He was certainly adept at it, evoking a beautiful melody that filled the area. Grian lay back with a weary sound, listening to more people arriving at the Shrine. She half-opened his eyes, seeing several unknown figures, surely other travellers enjoying Siegmeyer's music, and listened as Solaire leaned back where he was sitting next to her. He apparently allowed himself to rest at last, but he didn't remove his helmet, and Grian feared that he had foolishly been standing guard ever since they arrived at the Shrine.

She tried to fall asleep, closing her eyes and seeking some peace while her body finished recovering, but just as she was about to drift off into a deep sleep, lulled by the music and the feeling of safety around her, something snapped into her mind. It was like thunder in the dark, an image storming the stillness, Edgert closing in on her to attack her like a hulking, monstrous figure waiting for her to drop her guard. Shuddering, she opened her eyes a little, seeing that she had grabbed a handful of grass from the ground in the space between her and Solaire, fearing that she had made a sound when she got startled. With his helmet on and looking up, Grian couldn't tell if Solaire was awake, though his breathing seemed regular.

Frustrated, Grian closed her eyes again and tried to go to sleep, and when she least expected it, the monstrous figure of Edgert appeared, and a memory of pain ran through her entire body. This time she could vaguely hear her own sound of anguish, embarrassed, gasping for breath, ready to move to the opposite side so Solaire couldn't see her since she didn't have the strength to get up and walk away.

She froze when she felt a large hand covering her own. She didn't even dare to breathe at that moment, watching Solaire's prone figure expectantly, waiting for him to move or say something, her heart pounding in her chest. But nothing happened. The knight was still lying on his back, breathing regularly. And when she dared to lower her gaze, she saw with her own eyes that he had indeed taken her hand and did not seem to want to let go. Her first thought was that perhaps she had bothered him, and this was his polite way of trying to make her stop, or perhaps he was already sleeping and hadn't done it on purpose; however, those thoughts dissolved along with any other that had existed in her mind, melting into an unrecognisable puddle when he began to slowly rub his thumb over the back of her hand. It was a careful, deliberate movement, and though her muddled brain didn't understand it at first, he wasn't just rubbing her hand; he was tenderly caressing her skin. It was then that she became fully aware of the firm weight of his huge hand on hers, rough and strong after countless times wielding a sword without gauntlets, yet as warm and pleasant as if he had a flame burning under his skin. Those touches were meant to calm her restlessness in some way. It wasn't an accident.

Swallowing hard, Grian felt a rising heat and an indescribable sensation expanding from her stomach to her chest and cheeks. She no longer even remembered the fear and discomfort upon waking up, breathing heavily and moving her hand slightly under his, feeling Solaire immediately tense and cease all movement, moving his hand away. Then, slowly, he turned his head towards her and looked at her through the great helm's eye-slits. They looked at each other in absolute silence, and Grian didn't know what to do with the things bubbling inside her amidst exhaustion, lost in those kind blue eyes. She didn't know how to interpret what was reflected in his gaze either, but it was something too deep to put into words, something sorrowful, tender, attentive and uncertain.

Suddenly she found she dearly missed his touch and wanted to let him know that she hadn't meant for him to move away, so she slowly turned her hand over and grabbed back his. Surprise flashed in his eyes when she did so, but Grian didn't take her eyes off his; she rested their hands on the ground and slowly intertwined her fingers with his. Solaire not only allowed it but gently squeezed her hand and seemed to cover it entirely again, protectively.

Grian finally closed her eyes, sinking under the blanket and letting out a breath, hoping it would do the trick and cover the heat burning her cheeks. She told herself that Solaire was simply doing what he did best: helping. With this, she avoided giving room to possible catastrophic thoughts in that situation. But deep inside her, she wanted it to be different; she wanted it to be because it was her and not just because he felt sorry for her situation. At that moment, she realised the ominous reality that had been growing up in a place she didn't even dare look, trying not to panic and curse out loud.

Shit. No, it can't be. No, no, no, I can't do this now, no... she thought in a loop, knowing with each repetition that she had absolutely no chance of escaping from that.

It turned out she had feelings for him and didn't even know when that terrifying thing had happened. It was as if something had grown with a dangerous ferocity because of her own blindness, taking hold of everything while she stupidly ignored it. First, she had allowed curiosity to enter, then admiration, then begrudging attraction, and finally, something she didn't even dare to name because of the power it held. She had no power to prevent it, but few people would have been able to avoid falling in the face of such a light shining in the dark. Even so, she was immediately determined to not say a word. She was not willing to risk losing him to such foolishness at the end of the world when they had their own goals and vastly different feelings. And even if everything was fine and favourable, she didn't deserve a man like him.

Selfishly seeking a few crumbs of comfort from him despite her resolve, she lightly squeezed his hand and felt another warmth, deeper and more melancholic, settle in her stomach when he gently returned the pressure.

It had been challenging to keep a clear mind about recent events. He realised that his pull towards Grian was too intense to be easily ignored, that everything around her could throw him off balance and that his thoughts invariably and exclusively turned to her. He felt desolate and lost about it, looking at the sun and hoping to find some answer without success because not even the glorious body could undo the mists clouding his judgment.

Solaire finally saw the seriousness of the situation when he knew that she was being tortured after being captured, that she was alone somewhere at the mercy of a dangerous man, and that he abandoned other matters altogether to find her with Siegmeyer. There was nothing else at that moment than unbridled anger and anguish in his heart, drowned by the desperation of wanting to get her out of wherever she was, feeling as if a piece of his soul had been torn apart. He didn't remember feeling that before and didn't know what to do with it, but for now, as long as she needed him, neither his feelings nor his goal could get in the way of supporting and protecting her. Later, he would decide what to do. But now there was only her.

Forced to help hold her while the Fire Keeper reset her bones, he almost pushed everyone away, just wishing for her to be pain-free for as long as possible. He had seen all manner of deaths, injuries, and situations in combat, many times suffering them himself, but he had never seen legs twisted and broken so viciously by another human being. Apparently, Anastacia didn't either, but the woman remained diligent and meticulous, using a mighty healing miracle as she set the splintered bones. The most challenging part was her knees, which had been dangling, broken, shattered and swollen. Killing her so that she would reappear at the bonfire didn't guarantee that she would survive in that state, and letting her heal without touching anything would cause her wounds to close with her bones still twisted. Estus and miracles had their limitations. So he swallowed the agonising feeling of being a miserable and despicable creature and pushed her down with Siegmeyer as she howled in pain and tried to splutter through the handkerchief in her mouth, begging with eyes full of panic for them to stop hurting her. He was grateful that he had been wearing the helmet, so he didn't have to worry about anyone seeing the silent tears he shed at the distressing situation.

With her finally resting near the bonfire, he stood guard while she slept for as long as it took. He couldn't stop looking at her pale features, weak and haunted, with her brunette hair now shaved. And yet she was still so stunningly beautiful that the only thing clear in that silent contemplation was that no man, beast or deity could erase such fiery magnificence. It was overwhelming to think that sometimes nothing came close to his growing interest in her, the fervent affection that ate at his heart and made him notice even the smallest of gestures, thrilled to see more and more of the woman previously hiding in cold bitterness, now suddenly giving him the easy smiles and trust that seemed almost impossible before. Old memories of stories about love-struck knights with fair ladies who consumed every moment of their existence, guilty of their misfortunes and pleasures, came to mind, along with the ironic fact that he had thought them foolish and weak-minded. Now he was beginning to understand why they would do anything to gain the favour of the object of their affection and why they often lost their way or had tragic endings. Because he would surely meet one if he pushed in that direction.

I need my sun. I can't indulge in this. I made my decision in Anor Londo, he thought. Then she awoke, and he saw her hazel eyes, lost for a moment in an unstoppable feeling that filled his heart and weakly asked him to yield. Only until she gets better. Only as long as she puts up with it and needs me. Only for a moment. 

Perhaps he was fooling himself. Perhaps he would regain his resolve, but he took her small hand in his and silenced his doubts when she took it back. Right now, the only thing that mattered, his only duty, was to be there for her.

When she woke up, Grian was feeling noticeably better. At some point, she had released Solaire's hand and had it resting on his forearm, and he was stretched out facing up on the floor. Luckily, he was still sleeping.

Deciding that it would be best to forget about this as quickly as possible, she stood up. She yawned and stretched, seeing that Siegmeyer was snoring very loudly by the bonfire and Griggs and Laurentius were missing, presumably back to their respective places. Noticing for the first time that there was no sign of the crestfallen man, she shrugged and leaned against the ruined wall behind her. Hopefully, he was off to do something relevant instead of looking at the ground for all eternity.

Sighing, she thought about how to get out of her situation without armour, weapons, objects or Estus, thankful for at least have been able to keep the souls she had been carrying. She suspected that Edgert had been trying to keep them in her body until he wanted to take her to the Abyss. Just thinking about him made her hair stand on end, but then she remembered the savage scene of Solaire killing him with his bare hands and draining him of all strength. She looked at him, sleeping peacefully with his feathered helmet on and looking hardly intimidating, if at all. And somehow, he was the same man who had smashed his tormentor's head with his fists. She didn't know what to make of that because despite knowing that he was unbeatable in combat, there was something different and angry in the way he did it, something that she had never seen before in him and of which she wouldn't have believed him capable of. That didn't mean she was horrified; she found it disturbingly satisfying that he hadn't given Edgert a clean death and that he would never, ever turn up alive to torture her again.

With one last look at Solaire, she decided to let him sleep, walking barefoot towards the lower part of the Shrine, deciding to pay a visit to the Keeper and thank her for her difficult and bloody work healing her.

Chapter Text

Grian was surprised to find the Fire Keeper in the same gloomy disposition as before she died. She was not lying on the ground, but sitting with her back against the inner stone wall, but was still locked up with her head down. She approached her and leaned against the bars, clearing her throat. The woman raised her head, looking at her with sad, deep green eyes, and to her surprise, she got up and walked over to the gate.

"It is you…" she said, although her voice sounded strange, as if she was having trouble speaking. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, I'm much better," Grian replied. "They told me it's thanks to you."

"And thanks to you I have come back to life… I am Anastacia of Astora," she said with a slight nod.

"My name is Grian, but they also call me Blade."

"Frampt has told me of you and the hopes placed upon you," Anastacia said, and something like hopeful despair shone in her eyes. "Forgive me for using my impure tongue, I do not wish to offend you, but I beg you. Please, save us from the Curse. I just want to die human."

Frowning, Grian remembered the crestfallen man's words about the Keeper, about mistreatment and obsessive behaviour. She could see now that she undoubtedly had a deep-rooted despise for herself. 

"I'll try," Grian replied, cocking her head. "And your tongue doesn't offend me. I wanted to talk to you."

Suddenly flustered, Anastacia lowered her gaze to the ground again and shook her head.

"No… Please. I must not speak. But… if you need anything in the future, do let me know."

Grian nodded despite wanting to refuse and explain that there was nothing wrong or sacrilegious about her speaking. However, she feared that her words wouldn't have much effect on someone who had been indoctrinated to hate herself in such a way. So she pushed away from the bars and headed back upstairs. She stopped behind the upper ruined wall when she saw Solaire awake, talking to a stranger near the bonfire. The stranger was wearing various pieces of armour and clothing, probably things found during his travels, and he was standing hunched-shouldered. Solaire stood by his side, calmly speaking to him with one hand resting calmly on the pommel of his sword, and Grian decided not to move, wishing to see the exchange without interrupting.

"I appreciate your words, as always, but I can't do it. Maybe I should accept that I'm simply not good enough to defeat those creatures," the stranger lamented, his head down.

Solaire laid a hand on his shoulder, speaking with his natural enthusiasm, as if he were a counterforce to defeatism, and it was impossible for him not to intervene to eliminate it.

"You can defeat any enemy. I know you can. You've done it so far, and when you thought you couldn't, you rose up and gave everything. Never give up. You can always ask for help," he said, his broad chest puffed out, his stance proud, and his kindhearted, fiery tone slowly cheering the man up.

The stranger nodded, his helmet shifting with the movement as if it were too big for him, and he took a deep breath.

"Thank you, Solaire," he said, his tone gradually filling with confidence. "I am delighted to see you, as always. Please take care."

"I will. Safe travels."

The man walked away with a more upright posture, decisively clutching his weapons and heading towards the graveyard beyond the Shrine. Smiling, Grian went towards Solaire, who was still watching as the man left with his arms folded across his chest.

"It's adorable how you want to help everyone," Grian said, patting him on the back before moving past him, laughing as he jumped, taken by surprise.

"Oh! Uhm… What…? A-adorable? I only do what befits a Warrior of Sunlight," he stammered, surprised and flustered.

Oddly enjoying it, instead of letting him tease her, Grian smiled wider, nodding.

"Yeah. Seeing you trying to change the world with each person you meet is like watching a child throwing stones up a river and hoping they won't be carried away by the current."

Solaire gave a humourless laugh, shaking his head and ruffling the red feather on top of his helmet, still looking at her with folded arms but with a jaunty twinkle in his eye.

"You're mocking me."

"A little," she admitted, shrugging. "But I do find it adorable."

"Alright…" he muttered, abashed once again.

Grian laughed, enjoying her revenge and acknowledging that she had every right to it. 

Suddenly she turned her attention to Siegmeyer, who had been sleeping and snoring a few steps away and woke up, his dark hair tousled and a jug at his side. The familiar smell of the Siegbräu made Grian's nose wrinkle.

Siegmeyer blinked at them with confusion and grunted, running a hand over his face.

"Ohh… I overdid the mix this time," he muttered, squinting around. "Where are those two…?"

"Griggs and Laurentius? Did you give them Siegbräu?" Grian asked, incredulous. "They're scholars. They'll be even worse than us in Anor Londo! Those kinds of people can't stand alcohol, much less your poison."

"It's a hundred-year-old recipe, not poison," Siegmeyer indignantly growled.

"Ugh… Solaire, tell him about his daughter. Let's see if that sobers him," she asked, looking around without seeing any sign of Siegmeyer's two drinking companions. "I'm going to look for those two."

"My daughter? Do you know Sieglinde? What is she doing here?" Siegmeyer asked with a mixture of concern and irritation she hadn't expected.

Sighing, Solaire took a breath and accepted Grian's request, beginning to explain their encounter with Sieglinde and the golem. Meanwhile, Grian searched every corner of the Shrine, finding the two missing scholars in the most unusual places.

Griggs was lying in the giant crow's nest, surrounded by giant feathers that he seemed to have gathered himself, muttering something about wanting to fly high. When she woke him up and led him down the stairs, they almost fell off several times, and halfway down the flight, he started to cry because his head ached terribly. By the time they reached the ground, he had thrown up twice and was willing to trade everything he had for a blanket and water. Grian left him the blanket she'd woken up with, figuring it was Solaire's, and he wouldn't mind lending it, watching as Griggs hid under it as if to block the sun and sleep.

Laurentius turned out to be in the elevator shaft, asleep, and she couldn't wake him at first. He growled and cursed when she tried, so she kicked him in the ribs, pissing him off and making him follow with a pyromancy flame glowing in his hand. Tired, he complained of a headache and fell snoring a few feet from Griggs, still shaken from the strong drink.

"I'm glad to see they're okay. They started chattering about being geniuses, fighting over whether magic or pyromancy was better for flying. I'm glad they didn't manage to do anything dangerous," Siegmeyer said as she joined him and Solaire. Then he looked at them and laughed. "They are definitely worse than you two!"

"Damn your poisonous brew. That's not regular alcohol," Grian growled.

"Mmmm. Well, you should try the one that Sieglinde prepares. She has knocked down sailors and left them crying like babies the next day!" he said, laughing out loud. Then he cleared his throat. "Ah, thanks for helping Sieglinde, by the way. Please, if you find her again, tell her to go home. She has nothing to do here."

Frowning at those words and the immediate intention of pushing her daughter away, Grian couldn't control her reaction.

"She doesn't want to go home. She wants to find you," she impulsively said in a vehement tone that made it clear that this bothered her personally.

The two men stared at her in silence for a few seconds, and it looked like Siegmeyer was going to answer when someone started laughing behind them. When she turned, scowling, Grian saw with immeasurable irritation that it was Darelle. She had no idea what she was doing there, but she was the last person she wanted to be around while resting in the Shrine.

The woman had her helmet in her hand, a smirk on her face, and her eyes fixed on Grian. She walked down the steps toward them and stood between her and Solaire, setting her things on the floor and sighing wearily before looking her up and down and laughing again.

"Oh. I see that marriage has done wonders for you. Great haircut," she greeted with her customary sweet sneer, making Grian's blood boil, her face red, her fists clenched. "Glad to see others around here as well. It's always nice to rest in company."

Siegmeyer turned with a startled expression.

"You are married, Grian? Oh, dear…" he said, looking straight at Solaire, for some reason, but not adding anything else about it.

"Hmm. That's right. As incredible as it sounds," Darelle said, chuckling.

Knowing that at Darelle's next taunt, she would jump up and act violently, Grian decided to leave despite not wanting to give her the satisfaction.

She turned and stood on the other side of the ruins on the way to the cemetery, looking around and taking deep breaths to calm herself. After everything she'd been through, she just needed an excuse to get into a fight and release tension, and if that excuse had to be an annoying woman intent on making her lose her temper, so be it.

"Are you okay?" someone behind her ruefully asked, and it was her turn to jump at the sight of Solaire, who had followed her and apparently watched as she paced like a caged beast.

Grian grunted irritably.

"Yeah, as long as she doesn't come near me, I'm fine," she growled. "I see that your theory that she was temporarily deranged is collapsing. She's just that stupid."

"She should not have acted that way," Solaire said, nodding. Then, with a sigh, he removed his great helm, revealing his tired face and the strands escaping from his ponytail after wearing the helmet for too long. "I'm so sorry I dragged you into this situation."

"I crawled into it by myself, if you remember. Besides, I don't care. I have disliked that woman since I met her. The only thing that pisses me off is not being able to rip off that forked tongue of hers."

Solaire shook his head at her macabre words but still curled up the corners of his mouth and smiled briefly. Damn it, it was unfair that he had such a handsome face. 

"I'm afraid she is quite determined to pursue her new aspirations. When you left, she subtly told me that she didn't believe in our… wedlock. In fact, she was quite suspicious about it," he uncomfortably said, probably terribly tired of this situation and desperate to focus on his own business. Between the fact that he had to go out of his way to save her and deal with a lunatic, he sure had enough.

"She's insufferable," Grian muttered, running her hand over her head and trying to think of something when she saw Darelle over a piece of wall, watching them like a hawk, and something cold stirred inside her. "Gods… What if she follows you wherever you go? Something has to be done. We don't know if her madness will remain the same in the long run or if she will become Hollow or…"

"We won't kill her in cold blood."

"What…? You beat up Edgert, and now we can't get rid of this moron? How is that fair" Grian hissed in an angry whisper.

"That wasn't cold-blooded murder. He kidnapped and tortured you," Solaire said in a terribly serious tone, surprising her when he frowned. "Darelle may have been driven mad by an obsession and the death of her partner, but it's not the same."

Snorting, Grian frowned and crossed her arms.

"Whatever you say. Something has to be done anyway if she doesn't believe us. Which makes sense because this is a mess, and you're incapable of lying, let alone doing it right," she grumbled, lost in her terrible irritation with the situation.

Solaire took several steps with his helmet tucked under his arm, noticing as well that Darelle was watching them with a predatory gaze and perhaps considering for the first time that she was not only going to persist but that her methods could become even worse. Then he looked at Grian, and something unknown crossed his gaze. After a few seconds of deliberation, he faced her and leaned very close towards her. Suddenly forgetting both her anger and nearly her own name, Grian froze, her eyes wide, and felt heat rising up her face at the growing proximity, her breathing tightening. Solaire leaned even closer, his head next to hers, and whispered in her ear.

"We will try to make her believe it, then. May I?" 

For a moment, Grian felt as if the words were coming from somewhere far away, ringing in her ears as if through a strange dream. She was distracted, wrapped in his sweet scent, vaguely remembering it from when she slept clutching him, basking in his presence and feeling his breath tickling on her ear. Her stomach started doing strange things.

"Yes," she said, though she didn't know how her voice said that with smooth assurance when her mind spun in circles. She didn't even know what she agreed to, but she trusted him.

Her heart jumped on her chest as he carefully moved her, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her back towards the bonfire. Then, he gently rested the side of his face against hers, nuzzling her cheek. At the warmth of his skin against hers and at that deliberate contact, she almost couldn't stop a choked sound from leaving her throat, catching it just in time. She closed her eyes when he started kissing the lower part of her cheek, just above her lips, feeling a wave of unknown feelings shaking her body. For a few moments, she couldn't think of anything, rejoicing in a contact that she hadn't experienced before. Her heart was pounding, and a subconscious part of her mind momentarily wondered why he wouldn't kiss her appropriately, aching to move and remedy it. Instead, she just leaned against him, yielding to his touch, barely moving and letting her rational mind return to avoid any disasters.

Solaire was doing such a good job contradicting her claims that he couldn't lie that Grian almost forgot it was all a fabrication, almost believing that the way he longingly trapped her skin between his lips or pressed it was real. That the fact that he was unbearably soft and sweet, drawing out the contact and repeating it several times until his mouth reached her cheekbone, meant something more than what it was. He was just making sure that it looked like they wanted this, that there was no doubt that he already had someone. That the lie was somewhat credible.

It was her fault, anyway, but now she realised the lie hurt her too. It was briefly pleasant and instantly painful.

She held back the pain and tried to focus only on the rest, staring as if in a daze when Solaire pulled away and looked at her with that strange expression that mixed several things, of which she only knew how to recognise the concern. Because of course he would be worried when he hadn't even been inappropriate enough to steal a lover's kiss for a simple ruse.

"Forgive me," was the first thing he said in a low voice that made her knees weak.

"Ah… No problem. It was alright," Grian stupidly answered because she didn't know what else to say, with her mind still reeling.

Solaire cleared his throat, straightening up and still looking at her with a slight red tint in his cheeks.

"Good."

"Right," Grian said, aware again that this was an act and they were acting terribly awkwardly. "Well. Is she still looking at us?" Solaire glanced over her shoulder and nodded. She now understood that he had moved her to give another perspective because, from a distance, it would have seemed that they had been deeply engaged in another sort of kiss. Still, she wasn't sure if that was enough to start deceiving Darelle. "Is it okay if I… uhm… hug you?"

To her surprise, Solaire genuinely smiled, leaving his helmet over the wall.

"Of course. That is always okay."

Without waiting for him to say anything else, Grian went to him and hugged him tightly. She could camouflage it with acting, but she also wanted it desperately, something she no longer bothered to hide in her inner thoughts. She leaned her head against his surcoat, listening to the jingle of the chainmail as he moved and wrapped his arms around her. This time it was much more personal and close than after the battle of Ornstein and Smough; she wasn't wearing armour, and Solaire was only wearing chainmail for protection, so she could mould against him. When she felt his chin on top of her head, she gave in to the contact, melting against him and letting him hold her as closely as possible for what must have been an eternity. This was the reason why she had felt so safe sleeping with him; it was like being behind impenetrable walls where only total safety and satisfaction remained.

"She's leaving," Solaire whispered, pulling her out of that peaceful tranquillity and making her foolishly wish the ridiculous woman would stay here a little longer, something she never suspected.

"Great," she replied, clenching her jaw and pulling away from him, careful to let nothing of what she felt show on her face. She looked at him briefly as she fixed the wrinkles of her shirt. "I hope she doesn't come looking for you for a while."

Solaire nodded with a tight, brief smile but said nothing more, picking up his helmet and putting it back on.

"I'm sorry about all of… this. It's so much more than you should have to go through to help me. I hope our camaraderie remains intact," Solaire ruefully said as they headed back to the bonfire.

The clarification that their companionship was all that was left at the end of the day was perfectly logical, and at the same time, it felt like a kick in the kidneys. But that was her fault and something she had to deal with on her own without further complicating things or turning into something similar to Darelle. Of course, she knew she would never act that crazy or touch him without consent, but the thought of him seeing her as another annoying friend obsessed with him made her stomach churn.

"Don't worry. This is essentially my fault, and I've given you permission," she said with a final, detached air that he accepted.

Back at the bonfire, Siegmeyer was waiting for them with a clearer head, smiling broadly, laughing, and walking towards Solaire. He grabbed both of his arms and squeezed him into an effusive hug, taking Solaire by surprise.

"Ahh, you didn't tell me that you two got married! Was it after you helped me in Anor Londo? I am so happy for you!" he said, releasing Solaire and giving him a nudge in the arm. "I knew that you would…"

"We're not," Solaire immediately said, cutting him off abruptly and giving Grian a sidelong glance. "We're not married. It's… an act."

"That woman was harassing him, and since he doesn't want me to kill her, I made up that we were married so she would leave him alone," Grian simplified.

Solaire nodded, letting out a relieved breath seeing that he didn't have to explain it himself, and Siegmeyer looked from one to the other as if assessing the situation. He began twirling his moustache, appraising one and then the other.

"Hmm. How unfortunate. Well, you should get married anyway. You two look very convincing."

Grian flushed red, suddenly terribly tormented by the fact that Siegmeyer had apparently been watching them as well. She thought about throwing herself off the cliff on the other side of the ruins, and though she couldn't see his face, she was pretty sure Solaire was thinking something similar.

Chapter Text

As soon as he considered that he had relaxed for long enough, Siegmeyer left Firelink Shrine, heading back to the adventure. Griggs went back with Big Hat Logan, who was already safe and sound at the Shrine and immediately admonished the young man for his indulgences; apparently, the old man was Griggs' teacher, and he didn't take kindly to the fact that his student spent his time getting drunk instead of exclusively concentrating on valuable magical knowledge. On the other hand, Laurentius joined Solaire and Grian by the bonfire as Solaire brightly chatted about anything but the most recent events. At that point, Grian didn't want to talk about it or dwell on it, and Solaire seemed totally happy to oblige. However, when Laurentius joined them, he took it upon himself to help him fill the silence and distract her.

"I'm sorry I was in such a terrible mood when you came looking for me sooner. I felt miserable after that drink," Laurentius said, pulling down his hood and taking a deep breath as he rearranged his dishevelled brown hair. "I still have the most horrible headache, and... I think I even hallucinated. That was... unexpected."

"I understand," Grian said, waving it off. "Siegmeyer poisoned us as well in Anor Londo."

"It's a strong, sweet drink made from Estus, but it's not so bad. Drinking more than one mug might be too much, but it's decent enough without a proper tavern after so long. Ah, how I long for Astora's strong ale and sweet mead!" Solaire said, longingly looking at the sky. Grian looked at him sideways with a raised eyebrow.

"Ugh… Tasteless drinks from the north. The pear cider from the Great Swamp is much superior," Laurentius said, wrinkling his nose at the thought of Astora's drinks.

"What...? They're not tasteless, not in the slightest! Perhaps you didn't try them in the right place," Solaire replied, turning his helmet towards the pyromancer.

"I would tell you to take me to such a place to try them and prove me wrong, but…" Laurentius held up his hands as if signalling they were in Lordran. "So I will continue to think that cider is better, well balanced, sweet, sour and bitter."

"If we weren't in Lordran, I could easily prove that ale is much more pleasant, solid and fitting for everyday use and… uhm, what's so amusing?"

Grian had begun to laugh helplessly, covering her mouth and looking away. Then, with both men looking at her, she took a breath and shrugged.

"I didn't know you were experts in alcoholic beverages. That's good to know," she said, laughing again.

"Well, I'm sure there are many things we don't know about each other. Sadly, in Lordran, relationships tend to be fleeting and shallow. Having said that, I don't consider myself an expert in beverages. I only appreciate them on occasion," Laurentius replied, smiling. He made a thoughtful expression, looking at them both. "I know it can be complicated, but maybe we can fix it. I remember a lot, practically everything."

She couldn't help but be surprised at that relaxed way of offering a personal exchange of information. The only other person who had defied that taboo had been Siegmeyer, for it was not something usual in Lordran when people were so likely to have forgotten everything. She remembered more now, though, and felt less uncomfortable around people, so she didn't feel as cornered by the prospect as she would've before.

"I remember some things. I suppose you can ask," she said, earning a sidelong glance from Solaire, who probably hadn't expected it.

"I have no problem with it," Solaire said.

Laurentius smiled, suddenly excited. Grian could not deny a growing curiosity, especially regarding Solaire, whom she had always wanted to ask about himself but never dared.

"What was your favourite food, Grian?" Laurentius asked.

She hadn't thought about food in so long that it wasn't even on her mind anymore, but she still remembered it, feeling rather proud of it.

"It was pheasant stuffed with apricots," she answered, sighing at the memory.

"Fancy," Laurentius quipped.

"I used to hunt them down when I was lucky enough to find them, and I prepared them in a forest camp. It wasn't exactly fancy," she muttered with a gesture. "What about you?"

"Hmm. I'd say red swamp crab stewed with roots. Such a treat," Laurentius replied, making an appreciative gesture. Then, he turned to Solaire, apparently eager to question him. "And what does the knight prefer?"

"I would never say no to a venison stew. Especially with ale," he replied and then chuckled softly with Laurentius.

"Of course. Another question for you, Solaire," Laurentius said, pointing to the sun painted on his surcoat. "Is that attire common between Warriors of Sunlight?"

"No, I painted the surcoat, shield, and talisman myself. This is a symbol of my commitment," he explained enthusiastically, puffing out his chest, swelling with pride.

Grian tenderly looked at him. For a while, she had found his choice of attire peculiar, to say the least, but it turned out it was undeniably useful, and it was obvious he loved what it symbolised, so she grew fond of it too.

"You're very good at painting," Laurentius observed, appreciating the clarity of the strokes of the painted sun.

"Thank you!" Solaire said, prouder still, a smile reflecting in his eyes.

"Did you enjoy painting?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, I loved it. A good Astoran knight should be acquainted with fine arts."

"So, were you truly knighted? Like, a real knight serving a Lord," Grian said, turning slightly to him.

Solaire looked immediately offended by the assumption that she thought he wasn't, and she instantly regretted putting it that way. Still, despite having confronted Lautrec when he mocked Solaire, Grian had always secretly thought that he didn't look to have been someone formally serving a Lord or Lady. He was too peculiar. His current covenant seemed so unrestricted on a personal level that she had always assumed that his title came from some technicality within it or was self-imposed. Not that she thought any less of him for it; it was a fact that he was incredibly adept at fighting nonetheless.

"I wouldn't lie about such matters nor claim a title I have not earned. I was knighted and served as a knight banneret of Astora," he said, making her turn pale and feel terrible at his hurt tone.

"Sorry, that was a stupid question," Grian said, swallowing hard and trying to think of a way of fixing it.

Luckily Laurentius decided to intervene, partly out of curiosity and partly to ease the unusual strain between them.

"I don't know much about Astora, but don't you need to be highborn to be a banneret?

"Usually, but you can earn your way up with remarkable dedication," he replied, looking towards the bonfire, his tone again affable. However, Grian suspected she had truly wounded him for the first time, and he was going to try to pretend it never happened. "I had to prove myself in my own right."

Being aware of why her words had bothered him so deeply, Grian remembered that the strict system of vassalage and classes, despite slightly changing from kingdom to kingdom, was quite regular in matters of chivalry through the centuries. Without any recommendation or family, a commoner couldn't access ranks beyond that of a soldier or low-ranking knight in the service of their Lord or Lady, and a commoner ascending to high-ranking knight commanding others, a knight banneret, was almost impossible.

"That is remarkable. And why did you decide to join the Warriors of Sunlight?" Laurentius asked.

It seemed that Solaire was about to answer decisively, surely proud of it. He remained silent, however, staring at the bonfire as if whatever he was about to say had escaped his thoughts, and he turned with a strange expression in his eyes towards his shield, looking at it as if it were suddenly a stranger withholding answers. Feeling a sudden cold biting her stomach at the knight's lost gaze, Grian wanted to somehow alleviate the situation, but she didn't know what to do. She feared that she had had that same look many times.

"Why did I decide to join...?" he asked himself as if thinking aloud and realising he really didn't have the answer to such a crucial question. She was sure that he had a totally bewildered expression under the helmet. "I… Forgive me, friend, what a mess! It seems I have forgotten the exact reason behind it… but I know why I am part of the covenant right now," he said, going from a forced cheerfulness to hide his restlessness to a more decisive tone. "I want to help people. I find joy in knowing that they will do their best and, in turn, help others in their time of need."

Smiling with sad understanding, for he was perceptive and understood what was going on, Laurentius nodded.

"You seem like a great man, Solaire. I'm glad there are still people like you," he sincerely said.

"Well, thank you, but I'm not the only one helping out there," Solaire replied, chuckling.

"Stop selling yourself short. There is no one else like you around here," Grian said, shaking her head reproachfully.

Solaire laughed nervously and looked at the ground.

"Oh, stop it, you're going to make me blush!" he joked, making Grian laugh with his teasing tone and feigned embarrassment.

As soon as they stopped laughing, Laurentius looked at Grian with a peculiar expression.

"I know I already offered it, but are you sure you don't want to learn pyromancy, Grian?" Laurentius said. "Without weapons, it can always come in handy."

The first time she had declined the invitation, but the truth was that she was not in a position to pass on such an opportunity when she didn't have any gear.

"Very well. Show me," she agreed, sighing slightly at Laurentius' excited expression.

She wasn't even sure she had any skills for such things, but she would at least try. Laurentius immediately realigned himself, looking straight at her with his hands outstretched, his palms up on his knees.

"We harassed Solaire long enough, so I will be the one to speak now," he said, waving his hands at her. "Lay your hands in mine."

"Okay," Grian muttered uncertainly, doing as he asked and flinching at the blazing heat they gave off despite not having any fire. Laurentius chuckled.

"It's okay," he said, kindly, taking her hands in his and, this time, summoning a flame. Grian watched it burn in her hands without hurting her, observing with wide eyes as it engulfed her fingers. "Pyromancy is the art of casting fire. First, we produce flame, then channel it, just as our ancestors did. A pyromancer must be in tune with nature itself. Pyromancy has a rather primitive aspect to it. It meshes poorly with advanced culture, and… that's why pyromancers are considered rather unsavoury. Which is fine since I never got along with many people anyway. Turning Undead wasn't a big change for me."

"You seem like a nice man to me," Grian said, watching intently as Laurentius took her hands, enfolding them and transferring heat directly into them with a slight smile.

"I appreciate your words. Now take the pyromancy; feel the heat, wild and ancient," he said, closing his eyes and leaving the fire in her hands, withdrawing his own.

Grian watched in alarm as the flame crackled, red and powerful, now exclusively in her hands. A strange sensation filled her body, conflicting, and when she thought about increasing the flickering fire, the flames crackled and obeyed. When she wished for it to go out, it obeyed too.

"Did I do it? I think I did!" she excitedly said.

She looked proudly at Laurentius, who nodded, and then at Solaire, who had silently watched the process beside her. His eyes were unreadable, but his gaze quickly softened when she looked at him, and he nodded encouragingly.

"You did great," Laurentius said. Grian glanced at him as he unexpectedly retook one of her hands and gave it a light squeeze with a solemn nod and an intense gaze. "A pyromancer's flame is part of their own body and develops alongside their skills… When I gave you that flame, I gave you a part of myself. Please take good care of it."

Overwhelmed by the intensity and the responsibility he had suddenly given her, Grian nodded, not knowing how to care for something so ethereal, foreign, and seemingly so personal. When she looked back at Solaire, she thought she saw in his eyes a frown, but the expression immediately disappeared and went back to an easy-going look. Then, thinking she had just imagined things, Grian turned to the pyromancer again.

"Thank you for teaching me, Laurentius," she said. He nodded, bowing his head and bringing a hand to his chest.

"It has been a pleasure. Keep practising. The flame will obey and serve you. My master, whom I imagine still resides in the Great Swamp, had a funny way of putting it. He said: Pyromancy is the ultimate fantasy. We are born into the Dark and warmed by Fire, but this Fire we cannot touch. Those whose fascination with Fire persists learn to hold it in their own hands. If you keep persisting, it will do everything for you," he explained, watching with a pleased expression as Grian summoned the flame for herself and moved it between her fingers in fascination. "It can heal or hurt. Use its heat to learn what is necessary; let it guide you. Luckily on this land, pyromancers are not frowned upon, and you have free will to practice."

"I will do that. I think it can be beneficial," she agreed, letting the fire flow and feeling it like something alive waiting for her to tell it what to do.

"Now... I have some business to attend to. I hope it helps, and I hope we see each other soon. Next time I will have questions for you, Grian, for I want to know you better," Laurentius said, giving them a brief smile and getting up.

They said goodbye, and Grian let go of the flame, inwardly excited by this new concept that had repelled her before, afraid of the fire and her own possible worthlessness. She didn't feel completely safe having to figure it out primarily for herself, but she understood that she couldn't depend on someone else for something she had to experience on her own.

Grian jumped when she saw Solaire suddenly rise from the ground. She saw someone coming from the other side of the Shrine carrying a massive blanket full of things on his back, and her face lit up when she saw it was Andre. Solaire went to meet him, and the blacksmith squeezed his hand hard as Grian stood up and watched them curiously. It was kind of funny to see Andre walking with those legs shorter than his huge, terribly strong upper body. He approached her with Solaire at his side, dropping what he carried with a resounding clang.

"I think you've lost this. A friend of yours left it for me at the smithy, and I thought you might need it. Good old Siegmeyer gave me your message that you were here," Andre greeted with a smile, glancing sideways at Solaire, who tilted his helmeted head in acknowledgement. "You asked me if I had anything for our friend Blade. Here it is. Your mysterious benefactor brought it back in perfect condition."

Grian looked at the bag's contents, speechless at the sight of her armour, weapons, and personal items. Sadly, she had accepted that she had lost everything when she was captured, so seeing everything there again, the first thing she did was jump into the little leather bag, open it and find items that couldn't be replaced if they ever got lost. Siegmeyer's Ring, Solaire's Sunlight Medal, and Tarkus's Ring.

She tearfully looked at the blacksmith and bowed her head, overwhelmed with gratitude, bringing these small and suddenly valuable things to her chest.

"Thank you very much," she sincerely said. Andre smiled. Grian immediately frowned, though, blinking away the tears she hadn't shed in growing confusion. "Who got this for me? I don't understand."

"Hmm. It was a strange individual wearing elite knight armour from Astora. But it seemed corrupted by darkness, somehow. He was very polite, though," Andre explained.

"It looks like the same man who warned me and told me that monster had captured you," Solaire said in surprise, looking at her. "You really don't know anything about him?"

Increasingly confused and without any recollection that could shed light on this among all the memories she had recovered, Grian shook her head. She couldn't deny that it was unnerving to have some unknown man so interested in her, especially when he fit the description of the first invader who had murdered her in the Depths. It didn't make any sense; she didn't know what he was up to, but she could do nothing until he deigned to introduce himself.

"Well, the important thing is I've got my things back now, and that means I have things to do," she said with a determined, stern expression, shifting her attention to something immediate. She abruptly put on her gambeson. "I'll kill that sick white dragon if it's the last thing I do."

"Dragon?" Andre asked in astonishment.

"Seath. That damn perverted lizard is the one that put me in a cell and gave me to Edgert to take me to the Asylum. And I'm going to make him pay," she growled.

There was a brief silence as she continued to strap on and put on armour pieces.

"Are you going back to Anor Londo?" Andre asked.

"Princess Gwynevere gave me a blessing to travel between bonfires. If it still works, I have a link with one in Seath's domains."

"Take me with you," Solaire asked, picking up his shield and approaching her with unwavering determination. Grian looked at him for a few moments in silence, surprised that he wanted to return to that place instead of going on his way, but she nodded, adjusting her armour.

"Very well, if I can bring you with me, I will," she agreed.

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to go with you, youngsters," someone said, surprising them. Grian raised her eyebrows when she saw that it was Big Hat Logan, looking at them under his impressive wide-brim hat with a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I am interested in travelling to the Archives in search of valuable knowledge. My time resting here is over; I can bear inactivity no longer, and my young charge has already learned what I longed to teach him."

Despite not expecting it, Grian had no problem helping him and taking him too, so she nodded, accepting the sorcerer's profuse gratitude. Ready, confident, and feeling strong again, Grian gestured to Logan and Solaire, approaching the bonfire, and decided to grab both of their hands before attempting to teleport them, letting out a pleased breath as she felt Solaire's hand, holding hers securely despite her gauntlet. She closed her eyes, caught in a sudden whirlwind of light and ash and darkness, and when she opened them again, she was in the Archives bonfire with both men still clinging to her.

With a relieved sigh, she released them, watching them shift to accommodate the fact that she had just moved them an enormous distance without even knowing how and seemingly without difficulty. Logan seemed fascinated, and Solaire was simply watchful.

"Now," Grian murmured. "I will find Seath."

"Wait," Logan said, straightening his robes and adjusting his hat. "I want to thank you for your help. Since I will investigate this place further anyways, I suggest you wait here and let me explore it first."

She snorted, not quite understanding that logic.

"Why would I stay here doing nothing?"

"Because it would be the wisest thing to do. Seath has spent millennia researching a way to become invulnerable, and it won't be easy to defeat. Running furiously at him could result in yet another disaster, so since I'm at your service, it would be wise of you to take my offer, wait, and use whatever knowledge I can bring you," Logan explained, making her feel like a foolish child questioning a master.

Grian glanced sideways at Solaire. Then, she nodded and breathed out heavily, gesturing towards the book-lined shelves in the living room.

"Then let us accompany you. This place is dangerous.

"Don't worry, young woman. I am not helpless. You are speaking to the man who developed soul magic that rivals Lord Gwyn's electric power. My mastery over souls is well known," he proudly said.

"Nothing comes close to the magnificence and power of Lord Gwyn or his firstborn," Solaire suddenly said, disapprovingly, his harsh tone surprising Grian.

"The same nameless firstborn his father erased from the annals of history and was stripped of any power? The very Great Lord that disappeared hundreds of years ago and left everyone to their own devices? At Vinheim, we do not blindly follow the limits imposed by deities. We believe in our own potential. I am not merely prideful; the strength of my work is well known, and with enough intelligence, instead of faith, anyone can verify it if they aren't as dense as to close themselves to it," Logan replied incisively, making a vague gesture with his hand. "Now I must go. I'll let you know what I find out."

And without further ado, the wizard marched off, robes billowing around his feet, staff at the ready, eager to read those books Grian had not dared to open.

"Did he politely call us halfwits?" Grian inquired, snorting and sitting near the fire with a laugh.

"It seems so. But mostly me," Solaire replied, sitting next to her and drawing his sword despite supposedly resting in a safe area. It seemed clear he wouldn't let his guard down again anytime soon.

"I must be twice the halfwit then, without magical knowledge or faith," she muttered.

"You are learning pyromancy, but even if you weren't, one's courage and lucidity aren't dictated by that."

"I have a flame I can't control yet, and I'm learning an art Laurentius says no one respects outside of Lordran. Impressive."

"I can teach you miracles," Solaire offered with tentative enthusiasm. "I still think you don't need to prove anything, but I mastered some miracles, and recently, I added new ones to my repertoire."

Grian looked at him through the gaps in her helmet, feeling a rush of sudden fondness, knowing he meant it and wanting to accept if only to make him happy. If she accepted, he would be pleased, but she had a big problem with it.

"Thank you, but I don't think there's any point in wasting your time. I don't have strong faith in the gods. It wouldn't work."

Solaire went momentarily silent, assessing her words and lowering his gaze.

"If you ever change your mind, the offer will still stand."

"I appreciate it," she assured him, briefly placing her hand on his arm gently, almost ruefully. Unfortunately, she highly doubted that would ever change. "And… forgive me for asking such a stupid question earlier. I never thought you were lying about your title. I thought maybe you informally took it when you joined the Warriors of Sunlight or something of the sort. But even if it was the case and a Lord didn't knight you, I've always considered you an exemplary knight. A strong, righteous man worthy of that title. It was just... a poorly worded question on my behalf. I'm sorry."

Solaire observed her as she spoke, his gaze devoid of judgment or resentment, on the contrary, filling with warm appreciation.

"I understand that I don't look like other knights right now; you wouldn't be the first to doubt me and surely won't be the last. I shouldn't have been bothered by it, but… I was admittedly a little upset when those doubts came from a dear friend," he admitted, lowering his gaze momentarily before returning to fix his eyes on her, letting her see a brief flash of that pain before burying it in amiability.

Grian felt miserable enough to want to slam her shield into her face, cursing her stupidity. Hearing him admit that she had upset him precisely because he trusted her was like having committed an unforgivable crime, something she couldn't have done when they were getting to know each other, and she was gratuitously callous. It was certainly pathetic that now she managed to hurt him without even wanting to.

"It troubles me deeply, and I'm very sorry," she insisted.

"Oh, forget about it. It's alright. Let's pretend it didn't happen!" Solaire said with a laugh, making a merry gesture.

She didn't deserve that man's friendship and company, soft-spoken and quick to forgive, with a look full of kindness and something cosy and joyful that seemed to always surround him, emanating from his unwaveringly warm heart. Grian couldn't help but feel blessed by his willingness and patience, trying to be content and rejoice in his gentle friendship. The fact that he hadn't given up on her when he had every reason to made her hold on to him with greater desperation. It somehow made it tolerable to give up everything else her heart desired just to keep enjoying him without risking such an invaluable thing, just to be worthy of him and make sure his spirit never crumbled.

After they spent more time than they would've liked waiting for Logan, they decided to go find him. So they carefully investigated the Archives, agreeing to write down the summoning sign if their worlds separated, and they did so. At one point, they traversed long corridors leading to the section that Grian recognised as the prison.

She shuddered as she entered there, taking a deep breath, her heart pounding as she walked in. Yet Solaire stood by her, and in doing so, she found the courage to descend and slay with him all the Man-serpents who stood in their way. And once they were all the way down, they destroyed the mechanism producing the horrible sound. There, they found Logan locked up after dispatching those awful beings that Edgert called pisacas.

"Hello again! I am so glad to see you! Alas, I am imprisoned once again. I don't suppose you could stage me a getaway?" Logan said, sitting on the ground, almost swallowed by his huge hat and robes.

Grian sighed, looking sideways at Solaire and knowing they both had the same frustrated face despite being unable to see each other through their helmets.

"Yeah, we'll get you out, old man. Good thing we didn't wait for your return," Grian replied.

They forced the lock, helped him up and marched together towards the bonfire. Unfortunately, Solaire disappeared back into his world before they arrived, so he had to be summoned in his golden ghostly form. Logan took advantage of that moment to sneak between the shelves and continue with his reading, so they had to start looking for him again with growing frustration.

They luckily found him sitting in an adjoining room so they didn't have to linger much longer. Grian went straight to yell at him, irritated, but Logan silenced her before she even opened her mouth.

"Listen! This place is truly magnificent, more than I could have expected," he enthusiastically proclaimed, turning the pages of a book with terrible fervour, speaking almost feverishly. "As I said I would, I have unlocked the secret of Seath's immortality. If you have fought him and were imprisoned, you must know that Seath is a true Undead, different from ourselves. His wounds close promptly, and no mortal blow affects him, granting true insulation from death. It is an effect of the Primordial Crystal, a sacred treasure pillaged by Seath when he turned upon the ancient dragons. So, only by destroying the Primordial Crystal can you so much as scratch his hide. And it so happens the Primordial Crystal is in the inner garden of these very archives, at the Crystal Forest. They couldn't keep this information from me! Ha!"

The truth was that it wasn't just any information. If he was right, he had just found the hideous white dragon's most delicate secret and the reason behind his obsession with crystals. How he managed to do it in such a short period was beyond Grian's comprehension since there could be billions of books there. She supposed she could put it down partly to the time disparities in Lordran and partly to the fact that Logan must truly be a genius.

"Seath betrayed the other dragons," Grian muttered to herself.

"Hmm. Of course. What do they teach you in…? Well, wherever you are from... Hmpf... Seath the Scaleless received a fragment of Lord's Gwyn soul and was given the title of Duke for revealing the only weakness of his kind during the great war between Lords and dragons: electricity," Logan explained, apparently reading at the same time. "Blind and born without his kin's immortality, he had to achieve it on his own. And he turned his back on the other dragons. He also created magic from souls and crystals. A genius."

"And a monster," Grian growled, clenching her fists. "The man that worked with Seath to torture me gloated by telling me that the pisacas shunned and tortured in these dungeons were once fair maidens transformed in his experiments."

Logan made a dismissive gesture.

"Oh… of course, progress comes with mistakes."

"They were people, not mistakes," she hissed.

"Whatever you say, lass. Now we can't fix that, can we? And the fact that Seath has left us with all this knowledge despite that remains, and it shouldn't be wasted," Logan interjected. "The tomes stored in these archives are truly magnificent. A great pool of knowledge, the fruits of superior wisdom and an unquenchable desire for truth. Some would say Seath had an unsound fixation... But his work is a beautiful and invaluable resource. All progress requires sacrifice. And I certainly bear no antipathy for that wondrous scaleless beast, though I do regret your disagreement with him."

Gritting her teeth and stepping back, Grian tensed, noting Solaire silently preparing at her side in case violence erupted.

"You bear no antipathy for him, yet you help me destroy him," Grian tersely observed.

"I said I would help you find the reason for his immortality; what you do with that knowledge is none of my business. I will preserve and continue his legacy as others will mine. Dear friend, come back whenever you want and ask me if you are willing to open your mind. I will share everything with you. This will be a revolution!" Logan excitedly said.

Grian turned, gesturing with her helmet for Solaire to move a few paces away. Once at the doors of the small chamber in the library, she leaned slightly towards him to speak, though she suspected Logan would pay them no attention anyway.

"I don't think we should stick with him for now. Those books… I don't know. I have the feeling that they are affecting him. We should look for that crystal in the forest."

Solaire agreed, nodding.

They headed through the grassy meadows full of golems and began to search the surrounding area, looking especially near crystal clusters. The disparaging reality was that it was full of them, and they didn't know which particular crystal could be the one, hoping it had something special that would differentiate it from the rest. However, they eventually found an immense structure, deep caves with gigantic crystals coming out of the ground, and they entered them carefully until a golem suddenly jumped on them.

Grian yelled, sliding off the glass from the golem's blow and watching Solaire parry it with his shield, moving like a golden arrow to the edge as she fell, momentarily ignoring his enemy. Surprisingly, Grian didn't fall to her death, hitting something hard and firm. Something that, when she turned around, she couldn't even see. She was standing on something totally invisible.

Momentarily startled, Solaire looked at the golem and then back at her, and without thinking, he dove to where she was, landing with a thud and going to her side as she carefully rose to his feet. He rested his shield lightly against hers in a questioning gesture, having both hands full and unable to speak, and she nodded, indicating that she was fine. 

They stood up and began to walk tentatively. Grian watched as little specks of glittering dust that fell from above bounced off the invisible surface they occupied, but not beyond, so she guessed that she had simply gotten lucky for the first time on her journey. Luckily the invisible surface seemed to continue downward, marked by those specks, so she went in that direction, gesturing to Solaire.

"Stay close," she told him.

They soon reached the lower area of the crystal caves, observing a huge chamber and, at the bottom, an almost ethereal, brilliant and beautiful crystal that stood out among all the others. Without doubting, Grian gestured to Solaire, and the two charged through the horrid clams guarding the place, finally reaching the vast cavern.

Before they could reach it, however, an immense white figure descended from above, shaking the entire cavern, separating them as it roared, its words rebounding amid the guttural sound.

"Revolting Undead creature! I shall split thy bones and replaceth them with crystals!"

"Shut that big stinking mouth, you treacherous, blind, disgusting lizard!" Grian yelled back, enraged, leaping to her feet and dodging the tentacles of the huge, enraged beast.

She jabbed her sword into the flesh of the dragon's torso several times, bouncing off without a dent, but meanwhile, Solaire ran, dodging the creature's other appendages and sliding toward the crystal at the end of the cave. Then, he charged with his shield into the ethereal crystal and shattered it into a thousand pieces. Seath howled, enraged, shaking the entire cave.

Seizing the opportunity, Grian plunged the bastard sword deep into his torso, watching the blood spurt with satisfaction. Without missing a beat, Solaire was already attacking from behind while Seath desperately summoned magic and crystals that erupted from the ground. Between them, they pierced the albino dragon over and over again as it cursed them and promised the most horrible punishments until, at last, he fell to the ground, weak and frightened, more vulnerable than ever before in his life.

Grian knew that if he had eyes, they would have been filled with terror, but she could still see it in the desperate breathing coming out of his bloodied jaws and how it whimpered at the impact of Solaire's lighting spears. Grimacing, Grian seized the two-handed sword and slashed at his neck, cutting it to the bone. Seath howled and writhed, and crystals began to fall throughout the cavern. Again, she raised her sword, screaming and bringing it down repeatedly until she was drenched in blood and finally severed the beast's thick neck.

Breathless, Grian withdrew as she felt an unspeakable power coursing through her, a soul like none she'd ever had before going into her body as she stared down the lifeless body of that monster, shivering. 

She saw Solaire disappearing some distance away, falling to her knees in exhaustion and cursing as she dealt with the strange new sensation. Now that he was done helping her, he would probably be on his way; he had wasted enough time in a place with nothing to offer him. She should return to the Shrine to plan her next arduous route anyways, so there was no point in wondering about Solaire's next moves when they had different goals. It wasn't like she didn't know that.

Grian focused, closing her eyes. She didn't just have her revenge. She also had the first shard of the Lord's Soul and one less problem to worry about.

Chapter Text

Increasingly annoyed, Grian stared at the hideous Primordial Serpent, ignoring his excitement at her victory reclaiming the first of the soul shards needed to quench the Lordvessel. He had been praising her strength and prowess for far too long not to sound like an absurd flatterer, talking about the challenges to come and how he was confident in her ability to overcome them. Frampt wasn't precisely subtle in his way of fawning at her to keep her doing what he so desperately wanted. He was lucky that their goals aligned, and she needed what little guidance he could offer. Otherwise, she would have cut all that nonsense short.

The only valuable information she got from him was that she needed a ring to survive her encounter with the Four Kings, who were resting in a drowned underground city. That ring had belonged to the Knight Artorias, the Abysswalker, and it would be her safeguard against a devouring blackness that had Frampt shuddering.

"Beware of the corruption of the Dark, Chosen Undead. Seek out that ring, which rests in the honourable knight's tomb. Travel deep into the dark gardens and find it, but be respectful, for Artorias was a hero who lost his life containing a horror," Frampt had said.

The name echoed vaguely in her memory. She had probably heard of this Artorias in legends, along with the other Four Knights of Gwyn. Now that she was gradually recovering traces of her memories, bits of conversations and information came to her when she least expected them. Even if it was vague, she struggled to remember as much as possible as she traversed through the Burg toward the dark woods, stopping only to absently say hello to Andre as he checked her gear. Frampt's ominous words caused her to spend most of her time withdrawn, despite her contempt for the toothy creature.

She had already defeated one of Gwyn's Knights, Ornstein the Dragonslayer, and it hadn't been easy. It was in her best interest to remember as much as possible for future encounters with similar opponents, especially those as daunting as Artorias. Just as Frampt had said, her memories told her about the legends of a knight of incredible courage, noble and strong, sent by the Gods to perform deeds worthy of praise in every corner of the world. She didn't quite remember the intricacies of Artorias' feats, but she did remember that they spoke of heroic battles against a formidable foe of the Gods and a ruin to humans.

Entering the darkened woods, Grian began to search for a way to find and gain access to the Tomb of Artorias. Wandering through the humid thicket, she observed the beautiful flowers shining brightly in the dark, finding a certain peace in it. After a long time without experiencing a proper night, she appreciated the change, even if it wasn't natural. 

Her path took her through the steep terrain she once walked with Solaire, Darelle and Arnulf, now in solitude. And on that occasion, she didn't hesitate and attacked the golems hanging around the shores of the lake, knowing how to deal with them. The hydra, on the other hand, was a challenge.

Since the creature was sheltering in the deepest part of the lake and was determined to attack from there, Grian seized any opportunity and waited until it lowered its head to strike at it. And she eventually made enough of a dent to kill it, leaving her unscathed other than several blows and a fractured shield arm, something the Estus took care of. However, it took so long that she had to sit down to rest under a tree, exhausted after that game of wear and tear against the beast. 

She saw the glowing figure of another golem from that tree in the distance, in a cave beyond the waterfalls feeding the lake. It would've seemed irrelevant if it weren't a golden golem similar to the one she and Solaire rescued Sieglinde from. That could mean someone else was trapped there, so she got up with a groan, sighing and cursing, and headed toward the cave along the lake's edge.

It wasn't a pleasant walk, getting soaked knee-deep in water, and it couldn't be good for her armour or weapons, but she trudged on. Wearing a disgusted grimace inside her helmet, she felt her flooded feet slipping inside her boots every time she moved them underwater. And without the sun to warm her up afterwards, it wouldn't dry out anytime soon. She was used to being uncomfortable, but water always made things worse.

Grian immediately attacked the golem when she reached the cavern, fracturing it while she tried to break its exterior, enduring several glass punches before succeeding. Then, to her surprise, the golem shattered during a direct charge at her, and its prisoner fell straight against her. Luckily she was a slim, unarmoured woman, and she caught her in her arms before they landed on the ground, holding them both upright as the stranger gasped with a dismayed expression, looking around with wide eyes. She had a delicate appearance; she looked like a fine lady of high birth, attired in a beautiful cream and pale yellow dress with rich lace and embroidery, with straight light brown hair in an intricate updo crowned with a double-winged headband. Her pale face had several bruised and dirty spots, but she seemed to be in one piece.

"Are you alright?" Grian asked, pulling away a little and helping to steady her on the flooded ground with one arm the woman desperately clung to. It wasn't the best terrain to wear delicate booties.

"Oh… gentle warrior, I am deeply obliged for thy help. May I knoweth the name of mine saviour?" she breathlessly said, looking at her helmet with her pale eyes in sincere appreciation.

"Sure. My name's Grianach. And who are you?"

“I am Dusk of Oolacile. I cometh from an age long before thine... I can not stay here for long. I shall be dragged back to horrible solitude. So, before I disappear, allow me to ask thou one thing," she hastily said. "From my home I was taken, and banish'd to a plane of distortion, but thou rescued me long after I had relinquished all hope. My home of Oolacile was reduced to ashes, long ago, in my time. I have been alone ever since… I beg thee to assist me once more, for my dear Oolacile may be doomed, but it must not fall into oblivion and...!"

Before she could finish the sentence, she vanished like a mirage before her eyes. Cursing softly, Grian looked around, seeing no sign of her, and decided to search the cave for any clues pointing to her whereabouts. They could meet again if she summoned her, but she wasn't sure the woman was up to it. She seemed quite distraught.

Squinting in the dark, Grian thought she saw something wriggling there. Weapons at the ready, she approached, watching curiously and finding herself strangely drawn, called to come closer and touch what writhed in the blackness. But as soon as she reached out, a giant hand came out, dark and throbbing, bestial, grabbing her like a small doll and pulling her out into the darkness.

Coughing, for she still felt as if something was constricting her chest, Grian rose from the ground and lashed out with her bastard sword. It was an instinctive move, but she almost fell back to the ground from the useless momentum.

She stood still, looking around, her hands tense on the grip of her shield and the hilt of her sword, ready to defend herself.

There was no longer any trace of the suffocating darkness or the giant hand; she was alone in an unknown tunnel full of roots. The only sound she heard, bouncing off the walls, was a quiet clang and the distant splash of water, but she was all alone. Where was she?

A delusional and sincerely terrifying idea made its way into her mind, remembering Dusk's words about being dragged against her will to another time. The mere thought of finding herself in the same situation caused her heart to plunge into a cold panic. Her mind spun, confused about the implications and considering possible ways to fix what she didn't even understand. All she could do was keep going.

"I couldn't just get my ass out of the creepy cave. No, I had to go deeper and touch the black portal…" Grian muttered to herself as she made her way through the tunnel, pausing as she reached the exit and saw a wide, waterlogged area in the middle of a vaguely familiar forest. However, the sky wasn't the same. The terrain had something different as well; it wasn't plunged into darkness, but crowned by warm orange clouds that seemed to mark the last hour of the day, beyond the beginning of the eternal twilight gripping Lordran. And amid the waterlogged ground lay a strange beast, a white lion with the hind legs of a goat, wings, and a scorpion's tail bigger than a carriage horse, licking its paws. Brilliant.

The beast immediately lunged at her, shooting bolts and trying to slash her. It was swift and managed to scratch her armour on several occasions. However, the metal absorbed the impact, and she took the opportunity to stab it several times until it slapped her away. She felt immediately sick when the tail hit her, and she was sent sliding across the waterlogged ground, grunting in pain as she felt one of the spines dig into her armpit. Howling in pain as a searing wave coursed through her nerves, she rolled and yanked the spine out, flying a few steps as the beast began to puff air at her, flapping its wings.

Dizzy, Grian staggered to her feet and thrust upwards as the beast lunged to finish her off, ripping its belly open and spilling its guts into the water. Roaring in agony, the beast began to shoot lightning bolts everywhere, falling and writhing. Deep in the water, Grian was helplessly electrocuted, screaming in spasms as her flesh cooked.

She scrambled out of the electricity's range and dropped back into the water, feeling some ironic relief as it slipped through the gaps in her armour. Then, hands shaking, she uncorked her Estus's flask and eagerly drank, letting it heal her wounds until she felt good enough to rise and march beyond the flooded grounds. She also ate a purple moss, disgusted by its dry, earthy taste, to get rid of the poison. She almost sank to her knees with relief when she found a crackling bonfire in the woods among a circle of strangely carved stone figures. Finally, something familiar, she thought, sitting up and letting the proximity of the flames soothe her body, closing her eyes inside the helmet and relaxing...

"Well, look at this one. From what far-away age hast thou come? Thy scent is very human, indeed. But not intolerable..."

Grian jumped up at the sound of the old female voice, looking around, sword drawn. At first, she thought someone had to be hiding around the place, but soon she made out something moving against one of the ruined walls surrounding the bonfire. It was a huge mushroom, swaying slightly and looking at her with two small white eyes.

"What in the…?" Grian mumbled, slowly approaching and curiously looking at the creature. It seemed to have no mouth, yet it spoke again.

"What? Do not be rude. I can feel thy glance through the cold metal on thine face. Come closer," the mushroom scolded indignantly. She sounded like a strict old lady. "Hmm. From Princess Dusk's description, thou must be her saviour. Thine aura is precisely as she described it. I thank thee deeply for rescuing Her Highness, but Princess Dusk is here no longer, snatched by that horrifying primaeval human. And so I must ask… Could thou play the saviour one more time? Seeing that thou are here."

Lowering the sword, Grian assessed the strange situation. So Dusk was a Princess. The truth was that she didn't want to linger there, but the idea that Dusk had been kidnapped didn't please her, even if this situation was probably her fault. She didn't want to be the saviour on duty repeatedly. But after what had happened, she couldn't just ignore the fact that the young, gentle-looking woman was in the hands of a mysterious kidnapper, not after what she'd lived through herself. If she was the only person who knew what was going on, other than the talking mushroom stuck on the wall, it was up to her to either leave her to her fate forever or help her. Damn it.

"Fine," she wearily said.

"I thank thou. I am Elizabeth, guardian of this sanctuary. Something of a godmother of Princess Dusk."

"Any idea where she could be?"

The mushroom looked towards the end of the ruins, past the bonfire.

"Thou shalt see further on. An abyss was begat by the ancient beast, and threatens to swallow the whole of Oolacile. Knight Artorias came to stop this, but such a hero has nary a murmur of Dark. Without a doubt, he will be swallowed by the Abyss, overcome by its utter blackness," she said, sunk in melancholy. "Indeed, the Abyss may be unstoppable but... Still, I have faith that Princess Dusk may be rescued yet."

With some trepidation, Grian wondered if it might not be an unfortunate coincidence to end up in the same period as Artorias when she had been searching for his ring in her time. It had been a distant legend of which she barely remembered anything, and now it was a disturbing reality or a kind of feverish dream from which she couldn't quite wake up. Suddenly dizzy, she turned her back on the mushroom and sat down against one of the stone figures, trying to keep her stomach in place and her head from spinning. The more she thought about it, the more disturbing it became because it meant that what she did in the past could suddenly impact what happened in the future, including if she decided to do nothing. But what was she doing there? She had her own problems to take care of. Couldn't Artorias take care of that mess, as the legend said? She wasn't sure she was much more capable than a champion of the Gods during their glorious days, who also had items to help against that ominous Abyss. However, Elizabeth seemed to have little faith that the legendary knight could solve this on his own because he had no darkness inside him. And she did?

"Why me? As if I didn't have enough…" she muttered. Rummaging through her things to find solace in one of the objects she had earlier rejected, she grazed with her finger the light shape of Siegmeyer's ring, and next to it to Tarkus', but reaching for Solaire's medal, she came across something she didn't recognise. Frowning, she took it between her fingers and pulled it out, noting a small fractured pendant, a crystallised reddish mineral ensnared by vine-like metal on a silver cord. She could feel a vague sensation pulsing under the surface as she ran her fingers over it. "What is this, and why haven't I seen it until now?"

The mushroom stirred behind her, stretching with a meaty sound and exhaling.

"That is a dark relic. Careful. I can feel a terrible pain in it."

"Well, I don't know what it is, and I'm not just going to get rid of it. It may have some answer as to why I am here," Grian growled, putting it away again, not wanting direct contact with it even if she was going to keep it.

"Thou art not the only one here from another era. Not long ago, I had another visitor. A human like thineself, from a far-away time, only he was dreadfully odious and condescending, laughing at our woes... And I am afraid he is still among us. He wore a hat and a long black coat."

Grian nodded, getting to her feet. No matter how odious that individual was, he might have answers about why they were there. So, not wanting to linger any longer there, Grian set off, walking between the strange lanterns that marked the way at the far end of the sanctuary. Soon she came to a narrow stone bridge with a wide river running under it and views of a dense forest receding into the night. In fact, she could see stars among the dark clouds and a distant moon, looking on in amazement after a long time without being able to enjoy anything but the eternal twilight that awaited in the future. She hadn't thought that things wouldn't be the same yet.

Quietly, Grian wandered into the woods, finding strange hostile creatures tending to the vegetation, and tried as much as possible to avoid them. Finally, she found a nook to take refuge and rest, hidden from the path among some stones and ready to spend the first real night in a long time. She didn't want to waste any time, but her body craved to do what she was supposed to do for once, so she lay down, took Solaire's medal to avoid any nightmares, and curled up. She cupped it in her hands, enjoying its warmth despite the gauntlets and feeling a searing anxiety as she allowed herself to think for the first time about a hard truth. If she didn't find a solution, she wouldn't be able to see Solaire ever again. It wasn't the same being separated and knowing that he was somewhere in Lordran than to be far away in a time when they couldn't see each other. She had to go back.

Grian spent several days lost in the dense forests and gardens, knowing she was somewhere in the same area where she vanished from her time, even if it looked nothing like it. She could see the impenetrable walls of Anor Londo rising from several areas where the trees scattered, uneasily thinking that all the old Gods would be thriving there now. Anor Londo wouldn't be a deserted location then, but bustling and glorious. But she had no possible way to gain access and no time to satisfy her curiosity, so she wandered through the woods, facing enemies when forced to it and walking the rest of the time. 

Even if daily cycles were intact, strange darkness all around seemed to rise from the ground itself. It didn't take long for her to find areas oozing with the dark purple stench she had seen on Edgert's armour and the stranger in the Depths, that corruption that clung to everything like poisonous rust. There were cracks in the ground full of it and entire mounds of goo as she went further into the ground, and she was meticulous not to touch it.

Crossing a small bridge, she let out an unflattering cry as a huge, black-scaled, one-eyed dragon swooped down, leaning and looking at her with a vaguely disinterested snarl before taking flight again. She already had enough on her plate to antagonise dragons, so she ran out of there like the beast was chasing her.

After wandering for longer than she would have liked, Grian came across an individual leaning against a stony cliff face, apparently looking toward the coliseum on the other side of the bridge. She had been trying to reach that structure for some time, because all traces of corruption seemed to lead that way, but she turned towards the stranger when she saw he fitted the description given by the mushroom about the time traveller.

The man wore a trench coat and a black top hat, with a strange sneering porcelain mask and a beautiful red rose on the chest. He wore clothing she had never seen before, with straps and leather, extravagantly cut, and had a huge carved crossbow propped up beside him. He turned the white mask in her direction, apparently not feeling threatened by the sight of a stranger in full armour with a sword approaching him in a confined space.

"Hm… Oh, let me guess… Snatched by a shadowy limb and dragged off to the past? That armour is not from around here, even if it is still amusingly archaic," the masked man said, laughing scathingly.

Archaic? How dare he, she thought, inwardly indignant.

"I take it you're the other time traveller the mushroom mentioned," Grian dryly stated, stopping a few paces away.

"Ahh. A woman. What a pleasant surprise to know there's a lady under all that hideous metal," he purred in his rich baritone voice with interest, his hidden gaze fixed on her as she frowned inside the helmet. "Yes, I'm the other unlucky soul that ended up here. We are both strangers in this strange land, but at least there are two of us now."

Feeling a pang right in her chest when she heard those words, she couldn't help but think they strangely resembled those of Solaire when they met long ago. She had to muster all her resolve not to move a single muscle and thus show that something the man said had affected her. She had to stay focused and strong. There was no point in wallowing in despair when she had to solve the situation. So she brutally pushed that away and clung to reality, hardening her heart and pushing away any feelings that might cause distractions.

"What is your name?" Grian coldly asked, feeling something shady around that man but deciding to be in his good graces for as long as possible.

The man chuckled, shaking his head but deciding to answer anyway.

"I am Marvellous Chester. What about you, dear?" he said with a vague bow.

"Not-So-Marvellous Grianach."

Chester laughed again, though that laugh had a silky dryness to it. It was his fault, though, for having such a pretentious nickname. Still, somehow it suited him, alongside his refined and charismatic personality.

"Very funny. Seeing that we share the same predicaments, we should help each other. Think of something you might need?" Chester offered, pointing with a leather-gloved hand to the oddly shaped bag at his feet.

"I need information," she immediately replied. "Do you know the reason why you ended up here? Where do you come from?"

"I'm offering you my wares, and you want to get into personal questions. What a cheeky girl," he said in that delectable deep voice, clearly toying with her. Raising her eyebrows, Grian huffed, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. She thought she saw Chester tilt his head slightly as if studying her, and she was afraid he noticed her uncomfortable reaction, for his voice became even more incisive. "I may tell you in time if you're interesting enough."

Sighing heavily, Grian looked away, seeking patience and considering beating the answers out of him. 

"I'm not going to wait around to see if you find me interesting enough," she growled, ready to walk past him.

"Are you heading to the coliseum? Hmpf…" he muttered vaguely as she walked past hIm, almost disinterestedly.

Irritated, Grian stopped, giving him a sidelong glance.

"What if I am?"

"I'm afraid you'll find Artorias, the legendary Abysswalker from the old tales. You won't miss anything if you avoid him. He's a colourless sort, if you ask me," he replied with a shrug, as if it were something inconsequential and not some vital piece of information he'd just slyly tossed around. "So what did that giant mushroom make you do? Not that I care; it's none of my business. But I would be most curious if she sent you to that legendary paladin."

"She hasn't made me do anything. I offered my help. And I imagine you denied yours, seeing the adjectives she used to describe you," Grian replied.

"Be careful, my dear Grianach. Heroes have a habit of ending badly in their righteous endeavours," he said, giving her a twisted laugh and a flowery bow. "Don't let me keep you anymore. If you need to trade, I am here to help."

Snorting, Grian turned away from him and finally marched over the small bridge across the cut in the ground toward the entrance to the coliseum. She prepared her body and mind for what she might find there, weighing in on Chester's unpleasant words about Artorias and deciding that could mean two things. Either she had to hurry to help him since he could be in a dire situation that could jeopardise his mission to prevent the corruption from spreading, or it was too late, and he was somehow so deeply wounded that there was nothing she could do. Either that or Chester was simply playing with her, which was perfectly possible.

Chapter Text

The towering knight awaited in the old coliseum, and to Grian's utter frustration, Chester turned out to be irritatingly right about that hero, at least. Artorias was lost, corrupted and beyond saving. A sickly black mist surrounded him, his armour corroded, devoured by the Dark as he furiously howled and lashed out. It was painfully evident that he was beside himself, suffering an uncontrolled fury that possessed him and viciously unleashed against a wretched creature that had stupidly entered his rotten domain.

There was something horribly tragic about such a revered figure degraded to a violent, crazed killing machine. He couldn't even stand upright; his flesh seemed to have been consumed inside the armour, and he had a visibly limp, broken arm hanging to the side of his body. With the other one, he still held a greatsword as corrupted and threatening as himself, holding to that little shred of dignity as a warrior. Even from the doorway, Grian could hear his laboured breathing. She flinched at the sound of his voice, low and hoarse, resonant, full of heart-breaking pain and despair but still containing an echo of his former self.

"Whatever thou art, stay away. Soon, I will be consumed by them. By the Dark," he growled, keeping his distance and resting the greatsword on his shoulder.

Swallowing, Grian steeled herself. She had to try.

"Artorias, I've come to help you," she said, keeping her voice calm despite the unease twisting inside her.

"There is no salvation for me anymore!" Artorias howled, turning his words into a wild cry full of rage and pain and leaping straight at her.

Grian narrowly dodged the massive knight, rolling to the side and raising her shield as she got back to her feet. She took a direct hit from Artorias' greatsword that had her teeth chattering despite stopping it with her shield, sliding backwards and being forced to dodge several more blows. Wounded or not, the knight was relentless in his attack, pinning the darkness within his hood on her at all times and landing blow after blow. He hadn't lost his agility despite the corruption, leaping and somersaulting with ease despite his size. He sure had to be an incredible sight to behold on the battlefield when he was sound.

During one of his chained spinning attacks, Grian was relentlessly smashed to the ground and immediately felt death engulfing her. This wouldn't be easy, and Artorias didn't seem willing to cooperate in the least.

After several humiliating beatings from Artorias, Grian realised two things. First, she hated the disgraced legend at that moment, and second, she was much weaker than him in combat, even if he was wounded and corrupted, which was sincerely demoralising.

At least she had some survival tactics in place by now and had learned all too well that sometimes it was better to have the right tools rather than brute force to overcome superior enemies. Searching for her opponent's weaknesses was imperative, as was rationing the souls she was willing to lose and at what times she wanted to embrace a small Humanity to push her gnarled Hollow complexion aside. Sometimes, however, it was inevitable to die, but the continual repetitions taught her what Artorias preferred and where she could hit him. His broken arm was a clear weak point she desperately tried to reach. She also realised it was better to wait for him to finish his rabid and long attacks before starting her responses, which wasn't easy.

In one of those attempts to face the knight, she weakened him enough to force him to resort to his own darkness, possessing him like a purple and black wave of smoke.

"Thou are strong, human. Surely thine kind are more than pure Dark. I beg of thee, the spread of the Abyss must be stopped… Don't give up…" Artorias huffed before lunging at her again.

"It would be easier if you stopped trying to kill me!" Grian muttered irritably, parrying one of his terrible corruption-wrapped blows with clenched teeth.

This time she received part of the gelatinous substance that Artorias exuded right into her flank before dying. She paid no attention to it, rising again at the bonfire with a sore body and her very last Humanity. However, when she was marching through the forest, she felt a pang of pain in that area, under the armour. Frustrated, she prodded around the area, gritting her teeth when she felt some discomfort, but kept walking, for the place was full of hostile gardeners and stone giants. It wasn't until she took the magic elevator down to where Chester was usually positioned that she finally stopped to take a closer look.

Setting her things aside and ignoring the man a few paces away, she carefully removed her armour. She had to torturously remove each piece of armour, painfully pulling at the skin underneath until finally, she was left with nothing but her clothing and could lift up her shirt. Swallowing, she found a stain from the substance that had seeped down her neck and dripped to just above her hip, leaving a dark, purple streak that seemed to painfully burn her skin.

Cold terror pooled in her stomach as she understood the corruption's implications and what it might mean for it to spread.

She quickly lowered her shirt again at Chester's twisted laugh.

"That's not going to end well," he said, leaning against the cliff facing her, arms folded. "Luckily, you have an excellent merchant at your disposal, and I have just the thing that might help you."

"Oh, really? And what is that miraculous thing that can stop the Dark?" Grian sarcastically asked, also looking at him with crossed arms.

Chester stepped away from the cliff face and approached, and something flashed on one of the sleeves of his trench coat. He took it out with a flourish, holding it up before her eyes and showing a delicate little flask, warm and strangely heavenly looking, something she wouldn't have expected to see in the hands of someone like him. Moving her eyes beyond the flask, Grian fixed her stare on the sneering mask, waiting for an explanation.

"A Divine Blessing. Have you never seen one?" he teased. "I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. Unfortunately, they are extremely rare, but they cure any ailment. It's your only hope right now, but I'm sure we can come to an agreement."

At Chester's insidious laugh, Grian frowned, assuming a menacing stance.

"I don't have guarantees that it's going to work, divine or not," she observed.

"It's your best bet. Unless you want to risk it and end up like the good old Artorias," Chester said with a shrug.

She hated that he was right. Right now, she was the terrified victim despite her stoic exterior, desperate and knowing what could happen, and he knew it.

"How much do you want for it?"

Chester chuckled softly, bringing the flask to him and assuming a confident stance, knowing he was winning the game.

"It won't be cheap. I want fifty thousand clean souls and five Humanities for it," he said, surely enjoying how Grian went pale and utterly silent for a few seconds, considering killing him and taking it away for free instead. "Or we can have a much simpler and more agreeable arrangement, for I find myself craving more than mere exchanges after being here for too long," he said, his rich voice lowering and taking a step closer. He was considerably taller and apparently well-built as well. Grian didn't doubt that he was aware of the effect of his voice and the careful scent he emitted on the leather around him. "Despite that questionable haircut, you are still an exquisitely beautiful woman."

Swallowing hard, Grian didn't budge an inch, unfazed by the look hidden behind the mask or that display of intent and closeness. Instead, she kept her chin up and stared hard at the mask.

"I'm not interested," she curtly replied.

Chester lowered his mask, looking at her and reaching with one hand, deliberately caressing her arm and making her feel something warm, lazily stirring inside her at the unexpected contact.

"Hmm..."

Grian shivered, violently pulling away at her sudden reactions and turning around to put on the armour pieces back on.

Chester was silent as she did so, letting her finish preparing and apparently not intending to take the opportunity to try anything by force. And it was better for him, because Grian could defend herself and make him regret all the decisions in his life leading to this moment if he dared to try. So once she had donned her helmet and grabbed her weapons, she went to walk past him when he stopped her short with a hand on her breastplate. He tilted his head slightly towards her.

"Think about it," he whispered, giving her chills, despite herself. But even if she was being pathetically weak, she realised that she didn't crave the attention of that particular individual to remedy whatever she was feeling. And that was unsettling in its own right, for a warm-hearted, blond, blue-eyed person was suddenly summoned to her mind, and her body seemed to suddenly burn out of control while her mind stayed horrified. She was a dreadful person for entertaining such thoughts.

"I'll bring you what you asked for. Nothing more," she dryly answered, uselessly trying to hide any inflexion in her tone.

Grian walked past Chester, brushing his hand away once again and begrudgingly willing to get that ridiculous request at any cost.

Unable to stop it, Grian thought of Solaire to find some solace in her mind while she killed everything in her path. She thought of his altruistic nature, and his eagerness to offer any help without expecting anything in return. About his crazy perceptions and peculiar obsession, almost innocent, and his ridiculous humour and ability to make friends. He inspired others, pushing them to improve, changing everything around him without realising it. It was hard to exist in a world where people were invariably distant, selfish, and shallow yet again. It was hard to exist without him being but a distant memory. So she would fight if only to see him again, to play the hero and pretend the world was worth saving, even if she had to kill everything in the woods or end up killing Chester himself to achieve it.

Stuffed with souls after days of fighting around the forest, she met Chester again. If the number of souls she carried wasn't enough for him, she would take it forcefully anyway. And the merchant could see it in her silent attitude, in the way she always kept her hand tense on her sword. Grian waited for the man's approving nod to transfer everything she was carrying. At the same time, he offered the Divine Blessing in his gloved hand. And the exchange was finally done.

She turned her back on Chester and ignored his taunting dismissal, keeping the flask in a pouch and intending to drink it after defeating Artorias.

"Until next time!"

She had to defeat the knight and keep going.

And so she did. Because nothing would get in her way because even if she had to fall hundreds of times, she would rise a hundred more. Because even if Artorias was a legend and she was a mere human, she would prove herself in that age or any other until she collapsed for the last time.

Grian stared at Artorias, blurry-eyed, after taking a direct hit to the head, with her sword piercing his chest. For a moment, everything went still. The world stopped, and the knight's heavy breathing mingled with hers. Grian gazed from within her helmet into the darkness in Artorias' hood, moving her eyes away only when she heard the crash of his sword against the ground and saw the weapon at her feet before the knight collapsed, choking on his own blood.

"Ah, Sif... All of you, forgive me, for I have availed you nothing..."

Grian put down her sword and shield, kneeling beside the knight and hesitating before moving his hood a little, hearing him cough horribly. Even after everything, she had respect for the man and also compassion, for he wasn't the master of his own actions. Carefully removing the hood, thankful that he didn't have the strength to seize the moment and kill her in some humiliating way for letting her guard down, she was met with the man's handsome face, with sharp lines and long straight black hair. His irises, a vibrant blue similar to the fabric of his armour, were sunk in sheer blackness, and strange darkness was dripping from his eyes, nose and mouth like purple and black tar on a skin pale as wax.

"I will try to stop the Darkness," Grian whispered, helping him lower his head to the ground and shuddering under the knight's gaze, focusing on her with his dying breath.

His face filled with relief despite the torturous pain he was enduring, oblivious of the fact that Grian was inwardly terrified of the task ahead.

"I... appreciate it... Please... please... save... Sif..."

The knight fell, languid, into the arms of death.

It was a certain relief to know that he was no longer in pain, but a strange melancholy washed over Grian nonetheless, plunging her into a cold apathy that seemed to suspend reality for a few moments. She looked at his hands, seeing no sign of any ring, and she couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't fallen into that misfortune precisely because he had lost it. Had his failure changed the future? And her decision to kill him for being beyond all apparent salvation? In any case, she had killed what she suspected was a good man who had been wronged, subjected to terrible suffering and apparently worried about someone he had left behind. She could do nothing else, sacrificing her body, sanity and pain to rectify things that seemed to overwhelm her at every moment. The only thing she knew for sure was that she had to try to find Dusk and find a way to return to her time; she had to keep going and find out what had happened in the future whenever she managed to return to it.

"I'm sorry, Artorias," she choked out, though he could no longer hear her.

Artorias hadn't willingly attacked and pushed her to the limit, like his companion Ornstein in Anor Londo. Yes, Grian respected the lion knight's prowess and dedication, but there was something different about Artorias, something that made her empathise beyond honour and duty. It was as if Ornstein had been too distant and disinterested to utter a single word, merely tearing her apart while Artorias had tried to communicate even in his situation. 

Grian walked beyond the coliseum, finally beholding the catastrophe of Oolacile. The city was sheltered between cliffs and steep slopes, with difficult warded access points, like that coliseum, yet utterly defeated by the Dark. The beautiful stone structures had been mercilessly devoured by ivy and moss, and the floor and walls were stained with pulsating darkness. Sighing, Grian drank in the Divine Blessing as she watched the city, feeling instant relief. She couldn't stop to see if it had any visible effect on her skin, but she settled for feeling better and kept going, thankful that she didn't need to go back and kill Chester.

Exploring Oolacile made her feel like the first time she went through the Undead Burg in Lordran, dreary and disgusted under a beautiful sky oblivious to the hardships below. The inhabitants had been horribly deformed into swollen-headed, misshapen creatures with dozens of glowing red eyes, long, lopsided arms, and pale, bruised hides. They writhed in pain, laughing or screaming maniacally in the streets and buildings, present in all sizes. Grian didn't know how the Dark could have turned into this sickness festering in the streets and corners, but she was grateful to have been spared from ending up like this, at least for the time being.

She spent days investigating the city, traversing its narrow streets and wide avenues, finding elevators and buildings, and killing its unfortunate inhabitants. Dusk hadn't lied when she said there was absolutely no one left who hadn't been horribly mutated, but there was no sign of her. Grian, however, had her hopes pinned on a deeper and especially infected zone from which all the evil seemed to emanate. She was good at tracking, and it wasn't hard to find where all the tracks led; but she didn't go there, not until she had a way to survive. She didn't have any more Divine Blessings to stop the early stages of contamination, and she was in no rush to become a brainless, amorphous creature forever trapped in the past.

Wishing to escape the city for a while, she headed back towards the coliseum, stopping when she spotted someone there. It wasn't anyone threatening, but rather someone clearly sad, kneeling at the foot of a small grave. The tomb was made with broken pieces of stone and only had some flowers at its base, but it was clear that this person had bothered to do it despite not having the best means at their disposal. As she got closer, she saw that it was a woman with peculiar armour and a white porcelain mask with a long blonde braid. Grian didn't want to disturb her, especially since Artorias had obviously meant someone to her, but at the same time, she remembered the knight's last wailing wish, and a name came back to her.

"Forgive me, are you Sif?" she asked, using a soft tone.

The woman turned the mask towards her.

"Sif?" She seemed to find the question oddly funny despite the deep pain hidden in her voice. "No, I am not Sif. I am the Lord's Blade, Ciaran. Sif goes on all fours and is much hairier. I wonder where she is, now that he..."

Ciaran left the words hanging in the air, turning her gaze back to the grave. Swallowing hard, Grian felt increasingly bad about the situation, not only for having been the cause of the death of a significant person for that woman but also for mistaking her for what seemed to be the knight's pet.

"I am so sorry. He seemed like a good man," she muttered, hearing the other woman's quiet laughter.

"One of the best. He had no equal," she said with infinite sadness, and Grian could see in her something much deeper than her appreciation for Artorias. That woman's heart, which must have been incredibly tough to keep such attitude and composure, was irreparably broken. "Please, I know you put him to rest, and I can feel you have his soul. I beg you to give it to me, for he was a dear friend. I wish to pay proper respect. Would you be willing to part with it?"

Without hesitation, Grian summoned the bubbling soul of the knight, powerful yet twisted by the Dark, and reached out to Ciaran. She rose, taking it in trembling hands and exhaling heavily, briefly pulling it close to her and making a faint sound of anguish.

"He fought to the end and asked me to fight the Dark," Grian said, speaking decisively and wanting to ease the woman's grief somehow. "I won't let him die for nothing. I will face this Abyss."

Ciaran looked at her with the fierce yellow eyes of her mask, waiting a few moments in silence before placing Artorias' soul in the grave.

"I appreciate it, as I appreciate that you gave him peace. I could not have possibly done that for him... But my time as a Knight of Gwyn has come to an end," she said.

Grian looked at her in surprise.

"Are you another of Gwyn's Four Knights?"

Ciaran nodded, reaching for her belt and handing her something, a beautiful silver amulet on a small chain.

"I was. Another knight is nearby, in this coliseum. Gough. He will be glad to know Artorias rests in peace. Introduce yourself and ask for his services," Ciaran said, taking a deep breath and looking sideways towards the grave. "Our time is past, with Ornstein away, following his master, Artorias dead, Gough refusing to see or hear, and me… alone. I thank you for your kindness and know I don't hold any grudges against you. Please take that amulet, protect yourself from the Dark and honour your word. I must recover the ring stolen from Artorias as my final act."

Watching her leave without another word, Grian stood there dumbstruck, considering for a moment going after her and looking for the mysterious ring. She wished she could've asked about Ornstein, for her words confused her, but she feared that Ciaran didn't want anyone's company then and was perfectly capable on her own. At least now she had that amulet.

With one last look at the grave, she left and began searching for that lost knight named Gough.

"Hm? A visitor, have we? Thou must be the one who freed Artorias. An old friend he was, and thanks to thee, he left this world with honour intact. And here I am, retired and blind, of little help to thee, I am afraid," the giant atop the coliseum said.

Grian looked down at the ground, shaking her head.

"How do you know it was me?"

"I heard thine voice from up here. I may not see, but I have excellent hearing," Gough laughed. "Humans can be terribly opinionated. I know thou went over and over again until defeating dear Artorias."

"I didn't have many other options," she said, huffing.

"There are always options. Thou have the option not to enter our beloved Oolacile to face the Darkness, but I am afraid thou will go that way anyway. Ahh… what a sad situation. Oolacile's townsfolk may have brought this on themselves by being seduced by a Dark Serpent, driving that primitive creature mad, but it's still a tragedy," Gough sadly rambled.

"What creature? The primaeval human, the kidnapper of Princess Dusk? I have to find him," she decisively said.

Gough gave a slight shrug.

"Manus, Father of the Abyss. Dark emanates from him. Even if this land shall expire, you thou be able to prevent further corrosion and save the Princess, but even so, one day, the flames will fade, and only Dark will remain. And even a strong-willed little human can't do anything to stop that."

"I don't claim to have such high aspirations right now. I just want to stop this, find Dusk and return to my time," Grian replied, frowning under her helmet.

Gough chuckled, his entire chest rumbling.

"Those are not low aspirations! But I wish luck to thee, and I will help you however I can. Just be careful, especially with the corruption and that old black dragon hanging around the area, Kalameet."

Grian made a dismissive gesture as the giant felt the area around him, searching for a bag and beginning to pull out various items with extreme care.

"I'm not going to face any dragon unless I'm forced to, don't worry," she assured him, taking several pieces of titanite and small bones when he offered them. "Thank you so much."

"Of course. Good luck, little human."

Looking at him one last time, Grian thought she saw that the giant had something covering the holes in his helmet but decided not to investigate, not knowing if it was on purpose to hide his eyes, since he was blind. Instead, she merely turned her steps back towards Oolacile, feeling strangely pressured and eager to put this behind her. If she counted the solar cycles since she had arrived, she had probably been there for about a month, and she had no idea how the distorted time flowed in the Lordran of her future while she was away.

Jaw clenched, she glared at the invading phantom of Chester some distance away, approaching her on a narrow bridge. 

Of course he was invading her. She should have assumed that he would eventually try to betray her, and at least he had decided to do so after defeating Artorias. Maybe he found more amusement in it that way. She was sure she would have heard his twisted laugh if he were in his physical form.

They began to fight, and after dodging each other several times, they retreated to another area where they weren't in danger of falling into the void. There, Chester used his crossbow as a physical weapon on several occasions, putting her against a wall and preventing her from moving, pressing with his entire body and the heavy weapon against her and keeping her between his warm spectral form and the stone. Grian snarled under her breath, as his mask was a breath away from her helmet, noting how twistedly he enjoyed the situation and head-butting him without remorse. Then, taking advantage of the fact that he broke away with a faint, pained sound, Grian slammed her shield into his chest to stun him even further and cut his head off with a savage howl, watching the wraith immediately dissolve in the air.

"I hope you found that interesting, you piece of shit," she spat, regaining her balance.

She sincerely hoped she would never see him again, but what awaited her wasn't much better than the sickly masked man. The depths of Oolacile were probably the darkest and most corrupt place in the world at that time, and she had to enter them with nothing but her weapons and the protection of the pendant Ciaran had given her.

The Dark was cold, savage and uncomfortable, like the blood left behind by something suffering wounds too deep to understand. It adhered to the foundations of buildings, mutated living beings, and engulfed every corner. As she traversed the deepest ruins, slaying abominations far from the sunlight and fresh air, she remembered a name. Manus. A kidnapper, and apparently also a captive by Gough's words, driven mad by the people of Oolacile. What could they have done for him to go insane, to cause such pain and want to destroy everything in his path and sink deep below ground? She had known many kinds of pain, but she didn't know which one had the power to bring out something that could ruin the world like this.

In the depths of Oolacile, she found a hideous, small prison and a shattered cell. It had shackles the size of a human, and whatever had been in there had broken a path through the very wall and plunged into the cavernous depths beyond, where there was nothing but utter blackness and impenetrable darkness. It wasn't like a dead night or being in a dark place; it was a devouring, raging, menacing, empty absence of light, a terrifying doom drowned in stains of corruption that formed the Abyss. That something alive had created this in his desperate rage only deepened her curiosity and fear, clinging desperately to the silver pendant for protection.

She shuddered as she saw entire groups of enormous Humanities clustering together and trying to engulf her with their gaseous bodies. They didn't seem hostile, just attracted to whatever moved, their strange forms of black mist and small eyes of pure light fixing on her from every direction. They were truly terrifying, and their proximity was extremely painful, so she tried to avoid them at all costs or keep them at bay with her sword.

The only good thing she got out of that horrible experience, sinking into the darkest tunnels known and groping her way around, was being filled with the Humanity she absorbed from those beings. Her mind was clearer than ever amid all this chaos, which was strange.

At a certain moment, she heard a cat meowing. Thinking something was playing tricks on her, she ignored it at first but saw it peeking out of the darkness several times to the side of the path from the tunnel. It was a huge, grey cat with a tremendous mouth that seemed to be smiling, and it was determined to guide her down a particular path. Fully armed and ready to protect herself if she ended up in a dangerous situation, Grian followed the cat. She found nothing beyond Humanities and some warped Oolacile inhabitants, no ambushes or particularly noteworthy situations, until the cat stopped, scratching nervously at a stone wall, and disappeared like a wisp of cloud before her eyes.

Curious, Grian inspected the wall, tapping it with the point of her sword and watching in fascination as a section disappeared, revealing the entrance to a small cave full of Humanities clustered at the very end. They paid her no attention, apparently preoccupied with whatever was in the back of the cave.

Grian peered between the bodies of light and dark, making out something glowing, a magic circle, and a ball of fur coiled within. At first, she thought it was the cat, but when she approached and dissolved the Humanities with her sword, she was surprised to see that it was a wolf, curiously and fearfully looking at her, whimpering with flattened ears. It had a huge shield stuck in front of it, as if protecting it, and Grian immediately assumed who it was.

"Sif?" The wolf immediately turned its ears towards her, and when she extended her hand inside the magic circle, feeling a tickling sensation, it timidly sniffed her fingers. "Come on, girl, let's get out of here. Artorias asked me to get you to safety."

Sif began to wag her tail, whimpering. She got up quite submissively, surely terribly scared after all the time she had been stuck there alone, harassed by the Humanities, and began to jump around her. Smiling, Grian patted her head and let her lick her hands despite the gauntlets, deciding that although for a person it would have been an annoying inconvenience, for a lovable wolf, she had no qualms retracing the path to escort her somewhere safe, and so she did.

Sif was tremendously intelligent and obedient, and they reached the upper areas of Oolacile as the sun was setting. Breathing outside air and being out of the Abyss was a relief she shouldn't get used to, but still, she accompanied the poor wolf to the coliseum and watched as she sniffed around her owner's grave, watching her bite the handle of the greatsword and whimper, dragging it away. Her heart sank as she watched the animal grapple with the situation, circling, dropping the sword, resting her paws on the grave and scratching at the stone floor as if to unearth her owner. Grian sat close to her and waited until she calmed down, stroking her back until she relaxed. Once Sif had sunk into serene melancholy, Grian scratched her behind the ears, but the wolf's eyes remained invariably focused on the grave with the most forlorn expression any animal could have.

"I'm so sorry, girl," she told her, shaking her head with a sigh. "Take care of yourself. I have to go finish his work."

Sif stopped looking at the grave, cocking her head and pawing her leg. She was an intelligent and adorable creature. Grian could perfectly understand why she had been in Artorias' last thoughts. With one last caress to the now lonely wolf, Grian got up and walked away, back toward the Abyss.

The Abyss enveloped her again, like a perversion of the dark, uncomfortable and unnerving, and she had the constant feeling that she wasn't going to get out of there again. But her will remained adamant, and her corruption seemed under control. The pendant probably helped with that, in a way. But she didn't trust that it would stay that way permanently.

Walking along the edge of a stone cliff, plunged into utter blackness, she screamed as something stirred in the throbbing darkness and grabbed her in a familiar way. It was the same hand that had dragged her to the past, writhing and choking her, pulling her down as she screamed, unable to fight back. It pinned her to the ground with such force that she gasped, trying vainly to get up as something howled in the eternal darkness engulfing everything around her.

She felt sick and scared, as if she were in the heart of evil, deep down, in an abyss that had no turning back. When she managed to focus her gaze, she saw a colossal figure and evil red eyes glowing in the dark, swaying against it as he appraised her furiously. It hadn't killed her yet, but it went after her as soon as she was on her feet. All Grian could see was a mass of black hair and rage, hitting her from all directions. It had a monstrous, demonic shape with enormous horn-like protrusions. As it began casting unholy black magic from a staff, Grian thought she was done for, but the silver medallion simmered on her chest, under her armour, and they were easily repelled as if she were covered by an invisible wall. This infuriated the creature even more, and it began to use the staff as a club to try to knock her down.

Grian fell back from one of those blows and saw the creature closing in on her with a leap. It pinned her to the ground once again with its massive arm, taking her breath away. Her head began to ache horribly, and she gasped, writhing, as something tried to slip through the protection of the pendant.

Return… pendant…

The hideous voice rang like thunder in her head.

"No! Do you think I'm stupid?" she yelled between her teeth, fighting the presence as it increased the pressure of the massive hand that would soon begin to fracture her bones and organs within her armour.

If this was Manus, he didn't have the appearance of anything remotely human, and it was absurd to think he could have occupied a cell with shackles meant for one. It seemed like Manus' patience with her had run out anyway, and he was trying to strip her of her armour, like a bear opening a mussel, as if he knew that killing her would only get her to escape. He was more intelligent than his hideously bestial form suggested.

However, just when she thought she would be at his mercy, something shone out of the blackness. Grian recognised it as an allied phantom, not remembering calling or seeing one. As she rose to her feet, hastily adjusting the half-torn straps Manus had pulled on her cuirass, she was even more surprised to see Sif brandishing her master's sword in her jaws, slashing the Father of the Abyss and driving him back between skilled jumps vaguely similar to those of Artorias.

Accepting the unexpected help, Grian plunged her sword into the beast's black flesh, trying to dodge his erratic attacks and coordinate with Sif. Unfortunately, when they had him cornered and desperately casting magic, Sif fell, her form dissolving. Trying to stay focused, Grian lunged a powerful upward slash that severed part of Manus's smaller arm. He twisted the giant mutant arm to reach her, furious. Dodging, Grian scrambled onto the creature's furry back and began to climb, screaming, leaping, managing to reach his neck and slashing it with a savage howl before Manus fell back with her under him.

Suffering the full weight of the creature and soaking in his black blood, which boiled and rotted through her armour, Grian lay still on the cold ground. Her breathing was shallow, her armour was dented, her mind shocked, her bones broken, and her shield arm twisted, watching as Manus writhed on the ground and clutched at his neck, reaching out with his remaining hand for her. Grian just watched him, knowing she would die soon and probably take the thing with her. Her pain-clouded eyes fell, however, on something that must have escaped her pouches after the terrible fall. Several things rested on the stone floor a few steps away; bits of titanite, moss, and a curious worthless coin she found in Anor Londo. Among them was the old pendant of unknown origin, with that reddish mineral set in silver. The colossal hand grasped it carefully as the creature bled, bringing it to himself and shrieking in pain that had nothing to do with his physical wounds. At that moment, Grian understood that Manus wanted the broken, strange pendant, not the silver one meant for protection against the Dark, which should have been obvious since the creature thrived in it and needed no protection.

Confused and weakened, Grian wondered if she would even wake up again in a bonfire, watching Manus sink in a gushing sea of darkness. The creature was no longer fighting. He was clinging to that pendant as if nothing else mattered, breathing heavily. Then something flashed in the dark, and a pale figure fell to the ground, gasping and crying. Grian would swear it was Princess Dusk before the darkness took her away, and she lost consciousness.

Grian frowned, getting up and looking around at the strangest place she could have imagined after such a horrible ordeal.

She was in a beautiful garden full of poppies and rose bushes between rows of shrubs surrounding a small stone path. There was a stone well to one side and a large stone hut at the end of the path, with a dark roof and dimly lit windows, as if a fire were burning inside. More bushes of various shades rested against the building, and some ivy climbed one side of the facade. The wind swayed the vast trees with ocher, yellow, orange and green leaves closing around the place, reaching the weather vane on top of the house and moving it from one side to the other. It seemed that this place was in a deep and dense forest isolated from everything, next to a stream of pure waters that passed a short distance away and an open prairie. There was nothing to be heard except the singing of the birds and the very whisper of the wind through the leaves, under the warm autumn sky.

Grian took several steps, looking at herself in surprise and noticing that she wasn't wearing her armour or clothes. Instead, she wore a green tunic with yellow embroidered details, brown pants, tall leather boots, and a short ochre-coloured cloak. There was no trace of her injuries, and she felt calm, rested and at peace.

"It is a beautiful place, no doubt the reflection of a pleasant mind despite the hardships endured," a sweet female voice said behind her. Grian turned immediately, seeing a beautiful woman sitting on a stone bench several steps away with a sad smile. "Will thou sit with me, dear human? I would greatly appreciate some company before I am forced to leave."

Hesitantly, Grian looked towards the house, the path, and finally back towards the woman, deciding to go along and sit down next to her. The mysterious woman didn't seem threatening at all. She had fair, smooth skin, impossibly long, dark hair somewhere between brown and black, and eyes a deep, beautiful shade of honey and amber. She wore a delicate silver tiara and a rich white gown with golden details. There was something ephemeral, almost divine, about her, yet she radiated confidence and kindness so pure that it was impossible to have any reservations about her intentions. Grian had only felt similar energy coming from Solaire, radiating warm humanity instead, and she had learned not to deny it and to enjoy it.

"Who are you? Where are we?" Grian asked, watching several birds go by, singing among the trees.

"I am afraid this is just a dream. But a beautiful one," she replied, looking at her sideways and smiling warmly. "Thy mind has conjured up this, which is why I can speak to thee at this sad moment."

Suddenly, Grian felt cold for the first time.

"Am I dead? Really dead?" If she knew that this was what was waiting beyond then, she wouldn't have fought so hard to stay alive.

The woman shook her head slightly, and she breathed out with some degree of confusion and disappointment.

"No. Thou art recovering from an arduous journey, but will not stay here long, so let me thank thee for giving peace to a terribly troubled and unfairly treated soul," she said with sudden melancholy, raising her hands to her chest and closing her eyes. "Love is so powerful and easily underestimated by those who do not understand it. He was not a beast, nor the horrible thing that they would have you believe he was, just as humanity is not a plague and will still suffer the worst vexations. Oh, how I long to be free and see him again. But now, prithee kneel before me, take my hands and close thy eyes. I will offer thee comfort before I go."

Grian hesitated only a moment before obeying, standing up and trying to make sense of everything in her head. She knelt down and rested her head in the woman's lap, who placed her hands on it, enveloping her in comforting warmth.

She was inclined to think that the mysterious woman might be right about Manus. Everyone in Oolacile, wracked with destruction, had scorned him for the catastrophe. Still, Gough had revealed that he had somehow been pushed into this, thrown into a madness capable of perverting the body and mind of someone she herself had seen that had fit into a human cell. Someone rudely awakened, held in his sleep and provoked as soon as he opened his eyes. Someone who had been appeased in his last moments with a simple pendant, something capable of keeping him from killing her when he could easily have repeatedly torn her to pieces. She didn't know how all that and the woman in front of her fit together, but a terrible sleep began to take over her mind, and her thoughts scattered.

We may meet again. Take care, human, and do not let the cunning lies take the soul out of your lives.

The last thing she heard was the soft wind from a place that did not exist, letting herself be carried away by the warmth and surrendering to sleep so deep that not even dreams could reach her.

Chapter Text

Grian expected to feel unspeakably sick as soon as she regained consciousness, if at all, but to her utter bewilderment, that couldn't be further from the truth. Oddly enough, she was tired and thirsty but not in pain.

She rose from the ground, resting on the grass in the darkness of the Misty Woods. She had to awkwardly remove her helmet and rub her eyes to clear her vision, sitting up and sighing heavily as her head spun, trying to remember everything that had happened. The sequence of events passed like a bizarre dream through her mind, and she closed her eyes, letting them come back slowly. Of course, no one would ever believe her, so the only thing she could do was keep it firmly in her memory and cling to the evidence that at least it was real. The silver pendant under her armour, the wound on her torso and the images that flashed through her mind repeatedly made it a tangible reality. It hadn't all been a horrible nightmare but a distressing part of her existence.

Tired, she tried to focus her gaze when she saw someone walking towards her through the trees, immediately recognizing Princess Dusk, the last irrefutable proof that her misadventures in Oolacile had been factual. And she seemed safe and sound, surrounded by a light halo of warm light.

"Such a joyful thing to see thou art safe after our tribulations," she greeted, smiling slightly, stopping a few steps away and bowing her head to her.

"I'm glad to see you're okay," Grian said, nodding, getting up, and walking to the nearby shore for a drink of water. After not having done it in a long time, it was a strange feeling, but she desperately needed it.

"I wished to speak to thee. This may strike thine ear as somewhat peculiar, but… long ago, in my homeland of Oolacile, I was beset by a creature of the Abyss. I would have perished then were it not for the great knight Artorias. In truth, I saw little of what transpired, for mine senses were already fled! But even still, there was something about Artorias… A certain balance of the humours that quite perfectly fits your semblance. Heavens, could it be that… Oh, dear me. That was Oolacile, many centuries ago. Please excuse my fanciful musings. It was just so strange… You and Artorias. I owe my life to each of you. And both seem to share some kind of resonance. Perhaps it is the nature of true greatness," she said, deep in thought for much of the conversation, eyeing her as if suspecting something.

Grian simply smiled weakly and approached her.

"Take care, Dusk of Oolacile, and stay away from that cursed land. We wouldn't want any creatures from the Abyss coming back for you."

"Worry not, brave warrior. I shall be careful," Dusk said. A strange expression crossed her fair face.

"Everything alright?" Grian asked, carefully looking at her melancholic countenance.

"Yes… It is just that I still think about that creature from the Abyss that preyed upon me. My faculties were far from lucid, but I quite clearly perceived certain emotions. A wrenching nostalgia, a lost joy, an object of obsession, and a sincere hope to reclaim it... Could these thoughts belong to the beast of the Abyss? But if that were true, then perhaps it is no beast after all? Oh, please forgive my ramblings. It's just that I want to know the truth. And no one, not even loving Elizabeth, will tell me."

"I'll tell you, then. I think you should trust what you sensed from that beast from the Abyss. Sometimes the real beasts are hiding while others get the blame," Grian said, putting her helmet back on.

Dusk softened her features and gave her a warm smile.

"My magic is running out. I shall never forget thy bravery and wisdom, dear warrior."

Princess Dusk vanished, and Grian was again alone in the dark woods. Feeling better after drinking and yearning to get out of this place, she marched on now that she had the silver pendant and a better idea of what the Abyss was. She still wanted to find Artorias' missing ring, but she had no idea if Ciaran had even recovered it in the past or where it could be at the moment. So she decided to search a little more through the gloomy forests, settling the memories of the past, the tasks of the present, and the hopes of the future where they could coexist in peace. 

Before indulging in personal desires, such as finding the unknowing owner of her heart and looking for even the slightest solace in his presence, she had to keep fighting for a future where the mere possibility of living wasn't unfeasible. Still, the ever-present chance to cross paths with him when she least expected it gave a sliver of hope to her dreary heart, fueling her steps. Even if she never got to experience what she longed for, knowing he was out there and not in a distant time, out of reach, was enough to warm her soul.

Grian slightly tilted her head at the sight of the glowing stone gate with a magical seal. There was no way to open or bypass it; the forest on the other side was beyond her reach, protected by sheer cliffs, high crumbling walls, and inaccessible slopes.

"They say the tomb of Artorias lies behind those gates," a voice behind her said. Grian turned around, startled, letting out a relieved sigh as she recognized an onion-shaped armour and Sieglinde's voice. "I thought my father might be roaming such a place, for they say it's perilous."

Staring curiously at Sieglinde, Grian realised she didn't sense the Darksign on her, wondering how she could survive in Lordran without it. She had to be incredibly competent and brave enough to venture into such dangerous places and still be alive. Grian couldn't help but remember Siegmeyer's sour attitude, how he had dismissed his daughter's presence and her concern, feeling her bitterness grow knowing that Sieglinde was susceptible to permanent death while her father ran away to live stupid adventures. On the one hand, she thought Siegmeyer had the right to waste his existence as Undead however he pleased, and on the other, she knew she would be too hurt to hunt for her father when he chose to be so immature. Grian seriously doubted her father had any say in whether he wanted to leave her and go to Lordran or not, and it certainly hadn't been looking for an adventure but duty-bound. 

"I can accompany you into the woods. I could use a visit to the tomb of… Sir Artorias," she said, trying to keep her voice completely even despite feeling an unusual tightening in her chest at the mention of him.

Sieglinde was silent for a few seconds, finally agreeing.

"Fine. Let's go," she said, putting a hand on her shoulder and marching towards the door.

Grian inhaled sharply, clenching the hilt of her bastard sword. She watched silently as Sieglinde presented the seal, as the gates opened into the forest, and was somewhat relieved to see that apparently nothing had changed in the future and Artorias was still revered. He certainly deserved it.

The woods beyond the gate were thick, dark, and just as dangerous as Sieglinde had indicated. Some assassins and opportunists had sneaked inside and were continually trying to kill each other. Then there were the protectors of Artorias' tomb, creating a strange battlefield. Yet, despite this, an incongruous calm dominated that forest, perhaps because of the remains of the Abyss permeating through the centuries had turned into respectful darkness.

Grian and Sieglinde made their way through blood and steel, reaching some old ruins guarded by two strange individuals. Grian watched them closely. They were dressed in distinctive Eastern garbs, but only one spoke as they approached, and she immediately felt he was not to be trusted. Finally, Sieglinde spoke for her, making it clear that they were only there to find someone and pay their respects, but Grian stepped forward as she saw the same cat she had seen in the past, deep into the Abyss, standing right there before her. She stood there, astonished, as the cat talked, purring with every word.

"Thou, better than anyone else, must know it is not worth following this path. The legend of Artorias is nothing more than an invention," it sentenced with a cunning tone, slightly inclining its muzzle towards her and wagging its tail.

"What are you talking about?" Sieglinde asked, confused.

"Artorias was a hero," Grian growled under her breath, never taking her gaze from the huge shaggy animal, which gave a scornful laugh.

"Of course he was, praised by the Gods, for he was their champion. Although no one talks about the Undead who helped him. It's funny, isn't it?"

So her actions had a reflection on the future. The cat remembered her from her brief journey through the Abyss, which was clear from how she looked at her, and for some reason, she knew everything that had happened. Grian had no interest in claiming the glory of it. Still, she felt a certain resentment as she acknowledged that her sacrifices and pain were utterly erased from history in favour of the champion of the Gods. She still wanted Artorias to be remembered as a hero, but her nonexistence in the tale made her feel strangely insignificant.

"I don't care. I just want to continue," Grian finally said with a gruff tone.

"Go ahead, then. But be careful."

Nodding slightly, Grian pushed Sieglinde onwards, ignoring her attempts to stop and ask until they were far away from the cat.

"I've never heard of an Undead helping Artorias. What was that cat talking about?" Sieglinde finally asked, walking beside her as they cut through tall grass and brush.

Grian made a dismissive gesture.

"Come on. I want to see the grave."

Relenting for the moment, Sieglinde quickened her pace and helped her find her way through the trees. Luckily there weren't that many bloodthirsty enemies there, and the walking mushrooms stayed calm if they kept their distance, so that's just what they did. 

Crossing a strangely familiar thin stone bridge, Grian stopped at the desolate sight of a clearing with a huge tomb, very different from the small and impromptu one Ciaran had made. It had all kinds of swords stuck in the ground surrounding it and small graves scattered in its shadow. A massive greatsword stuck before Artorias' tomb stood out from all the rest, immediately familiar to Grian, who moved towards it as if mesmerized. It was bigger than she remembered, and when she brushed its ancient surface and closed her eyes, she could see each and every fight against its owner in her mind as if it had happened moments ago. She could see those electric blue eyes and the corruption in the knight's face, feeling the lonely despair that had engulfed them in Oolacile, harshly remembering how real it had been.

Her eyes widened as she heard Sieglinde's gasp behind her and a deep growl from above. She froze as she saw the enormous figure of a gigantic wolf down looking at her with sharp yellow eyes, assessing her with terrifying intelligence and an aggressive question in its animal expression. What was she doing touching that sword, sullying her master's grave? 

It seemed that Sif didn't recognize her at first. She didn't blame her. For her, centuries had passed since their last encounter.

"Sif…" she whispered, flinching and stepping back as the wolf jumped to the ground, sniffing at her until she fell onto her back.

"What are you doing? Ready your weapons!" Sieglinde nervously said, ready to charge in and help her.

"No! Stay there," Grian hissed, keeping quiet under the massive wolf's scrutiny. She raised a hand, shaken by the creature's breath, and brushed her muzzle, stroking it. The wolf didn't bite her arm off, which was a good sign, and her eyes softened, letting out a soft whimper. "Hello, Sif. Remember me?"

The wolf howled sadly towards the sky, towards that sun veiled by the artificial night, so similar to a moon. Then, with one last glance, she turned and took Artorias' greatsword in her jaws, her demeanour changing again. Grian watched her clear gesture of hostility with growing confusion, getting up with Sieglinde's help and watching the wolf reposition the greatsword in her mouth and flex her legs, ready to pounce. She didn't have time to say anything else before she launched at them. They narrowly dodged it, but Grian was thrown into a fight she wanted no part of. However Sif was dead serious, possessed by a precise and implacable determination not to give them time to compose themselves and try to destroy them.

"I don't think it wants to make friends!" Sieglinde cried, narrowly stepping out of the way of a terrifyingly fast blow that would have ripped her in half.

"I don't know what's wrong with her! Sif, stop, it's me!" Grian gasped, covering herself with her shield and falling backwards under a terrible blow.

Sif ignored her words, leaping and swinging Artorias' sword with a skill beyond anything she might've displayed when she helped her in the Abyss against Manus.

Grian tried hard not to harm the majestic animal, even considering letting the wolf kill her to reappear at the bonfire, but was forced to act when Sif focused on Sieglinde. The wolf knocked down the young woman with a brutal blow, cutting her and pinning her down. With her armour torn and broken, Sieglinde screamed, blood dripping between the metal pieces. Grian lunged forward as she saw Sif rear up on her hind legs to gather strength before finishing Sieglinde off.

Sieglinde isn't branded by the Darksign... She cannot revive; she is not Undead...

Grian charged, driving the full length of her bastard sword into the wolf's guts, flinching as she found herself bathed in her blood, and the animal howled piteously in pain. It was one of the worst sounds she'd ever heard, and it distracted her long enough not to foresee the sudden jerk the wolf gave next, pulling her sword out and nearly knocking her back to the ground. Sif whimpered, looking at her with some surprise, rage shining in her eyes, now ready to charge at her as her gut uncontrollably bled.

Finally giving in, Grian tried to think of Sif as any human combatant demanding an honourable duel from which she couldn't back down. However, it was difficult when she made sounds that reminded him of the scared little wolf in the Abyss, of Artorias' last act protecting her and his love for her. She didn't know what madness possessed her, but she couldn't stop a wolf as big as a building from fighting, and she couldn't just leave Sieglinde to die.

Battered and sore, Grian watched Sif circle around her, limping, raising her master's greatsword despite the deep wounds on her fluffy body. There was something as tragic as it was admirable in that animal. 

They collided again, and Grian narrowly dodged the greatsword, jabbing her sword into Sif's neck. Sif moved away, dropping her sword and scrambling amid horrible sounds. Grian gritted her teeth, trembling and watching helplessly as the wolf fell, writhing and exhaling, its eyes fixed on its former master's grave.

Suppressing the lump in her throat, Grian forced herself to turn and shuffle towards Sieglinde. She couldn't allow herself to sink into despair, not with the badly injured young woman still on the ground.

It's not my fault. I couldn't do anything to stop it...

She knelt beside Sieglinde and took out her Estus flask, setting it aside and helping her remove her helmet. The blow from Sif's greatsword had pierced the entire chest of the armour, sinking it in and forcing Sieglinde to cough and gasp for air. When she tried to hold the Estus close to her, she jerked it away with one hand, her expression contrite.

Feeling cold sweat dripping down her forehead, Grian understood that Estus had no effect on someone if they weren't Undead. For a few horrible seconds, she thought she couldn't help her, that she would have to find Siegmeyer and explain that his daughter had died looking for him for being a selfish fool, but then she remembered her pyromancy flame. Grian hadn't done much with it, but Laurentius had said that it could hurt and heal, so even having no idea what she was doing and trying was better than resigning herself to watching someone die.

She summoned the flame into the palm of her hand, drawing it closer to Sieglinde and trying to project it as benignly as possible. The girl's eyes widened in alarm, but she didn't move or try to stop her or appear to be in pain or discomfort. Grian closed her eyes and put all her will and strength into ordering the flame to heal Sieglinde's flesh and organs, noticing how it fluctuated chaotically for a few seconds before obeying.

The warm light of pyromancy bathed Sieglinde, and her entire body fell weakly to the ground. She sighed in relief, so Grian obstinately went on with it, drawing the fire close enough to project it and passing it all over Sieglinde's body. Surprisingly, she felt terribly tired when she finished and couldn't even stand up. She couldn't even open her eyes, falling to the ground and giving thanks that at least she had dropped to the side of Sieglinde instead of crushing her.

When she opened her eyes again, Grian was at the bonfire above Andre's forge. She recognised it immediately, and it didn't take her long to remember everything that had happened up to the moment she fell asleep, feeling the most horrible exhaustion she had ever suffered in her life. It was as if she needed to sleep with all her soul. As if the pyromancy flame had required immediate payment for its services.

She sat up, seeing Sieglinde without her massive armour on the other side of the fire. As soon as she saw her getting up, she smiled, and Grian smiled back, grateful to know that she had survived.

"Thank you so much for that. It's a good trick. I thought my journey was over," Sieglinde said, taking a piece of stale bread from the bag beside her and eating it. Her smile widened at Grian's stunned expression at the sight of her eating. "Yes… Not being cursed has advantages and disadvantages."

Grian gave a bitter laugh.

"In this place, there are undoubtedly more disadvantages for you," she pointed out.

Sieglinde shrugged, tossing her something she had held in her hand. Grian caught it midair, eyeing a thin gold ring with a tiny blue gem.

"I found that in Artorias' tomb. I have many questions for you, but I imagine you won't answer them. I owe you my life, anyway, so take that as a token of appreciation. I don't think the old hero will need it anymore," Sieglinde said, hardly concerned that she had plundered the tomb of a revered champion while she was unconscious.

Sighing, Grian pocketed it. She didn't know if it was the ring she had been looking for, but she didn't want to return to that place to give it back anyway. She didn't want to see Sif's dead body and remember all the madness she'd been through. Oh, that dumb wolf...

Sieglinde had left her armour with Andre to repair it, but when it was finished, seeing that their worlds were still in contact, they decided to leave together for Firelink Shrine. Grian had to admit that she liked the young woman's company; she didn't force her to speak and had a pleasant character for a travelling companion. She only talked about her life or personal things when they stopped to rest or when the topic came up, and she didn't insist on questioning Grian despite her curiosity. In that, she reminded her of Solaire.

Once in the Shrine, Grian found it was eerily silent and empty. Laurentius was nowhere to be seen, Logan and Griggs weren't there either, and the crestfallen man was still missing. The only one still there was the cleric of the Way of White, Petrus, apparently quite anxious. When they approached him, he looked at them with some irritation, trying to maintain his stoic and aloof attitude as he paced from one side to the other.

"What happened? This place is... empty," Grian said, not knowing how else to start a conversation with him.

Petrus stopped his continuous movement and looked at her with a slight frown.

"I do not care about the state of this place. I am sorry to say that it is enough for me to worry about my own problems," he sentenced, his jaw tense and his eyes continually going to the jars where that Thorolund lady had been praying. "They left without me. They have left me behind. I knew those young knights were a bad influence on Lady Reah, for they have taken her to a terrible place without me. I have scoured for them near and far to no avail. And to think that I swore to protect her with my life..."

With a tired sound, Grian nodded. She harboured no empathy for the cleric's sorrows, and his misery hardly sounded genuine for some reason. She couldn't trust him when he didn't even know what was going on with his comrades, so she turned to leave.

She stood still, momentarily surprised that Sieglinde was no longer there. Brilliant.

There was only someone else she could talk to in the Shrine. To her misfortune, he had an unbearably revolting breath.

Grian didn't bother to tell Frampt of her adventures in the past. It seemed her intervention hadn't changed the fact that the hero glorified for Oolacile's salvation was still Artorias, so she finally decided to leave it be and be content with her silver amulet and the ring, which turned out to be just what she had been looking for. It was convenient to have certain coincidences come together positively occasionally, even if she couldn't help but question them.

According to Frampt, her next destination was the Catacombs which led to the Lord of the Dead himself, Nito. The entrance was somewhere in the cemetery beyond Firelink Shrine, a place she had religiously avoided since her arrival. It seemed he wanted to send her to the Ruins of New Londo as well, but was terribly apprehensive about sending her there before she was ready, considering the crypts like a better alternative to get acquainted with the Dark. If only he knew…

Frampt hadn't bothered to tell her that the skeletons of the dead rose and reformed again and again even if she destroyed them, nor that they came in all sizes, prowling the graveyard in bands, protecting the cave with long carved stairs that sank into the earth at the very end of the cemetery. That was clearly the entrance to the kingdom of the dead. 

A horrible stench of decay emanated from those stairs, like the breath of a thousand decomposing bodies. Grian ran and dodged the skeletons, going down the long stairs and into the penetrating darkness.

Chapter Text

Frowning at the sight of bugs as big as her hand slithering out of the corners of the catacombs, Grian suppressed a shudder and raised a hand to light her way. As it turns out, the pyromancy flame was helpful for many things if she were careful enough not to let it drain all of her energy, such as acting as a torch as she descended the endless underground graveyard. She still didn't quite get along with the flame, but it seemed they were slowly getting to know each other, as if pyromancy were a sentient being that required patience and a middle ground before rendering its services.

And there was no better time to explore its capabilities than in that place of death and darkness.

Grian faced relentless hordes of skeletons until she found the necromancers returning them from the dead. She couldn't imagine a more gruesome fate after being permanently dead than being dragged back to follow the whims of a sick individual. However, her path through the catacombs proved reasonably straightforward as long as she proceeded with caution and avoided direct confrontations with the dead until locating the necromancer summoning them. Despite that, she found it all deeply disturbing, and she'd rather never have to hear the sounds and choking words of skeletons as they lunged at her.

At one point, when she reached one of the many bridges around the place, she barely put a foot on it when the structure began to tip over on its own. She jumped back to safe ground in time to avoid falling or being impaled by the thousands of spikes sticking out on the bridge's underside. Confused, she looked around and began searching for a way to keep going that didn't involve dying horribly. That's how she ran into a strange individual next to a stone lever. The man was dressed in leather, with a completely bald head and sharp features. He seemed briefly startled when he saw her approach, but quickly his expression turned one of cunning confidence.

Grian frowned, looking from the lever to the man, tightening her grip on the bastard sword.

"Choose your next words wisely because things are looking grim for you," she said, for he was clearly the main suspect in what she had just experienced.

The man chuckled, stepping back towards a massive shield and spear resting against a wall. However, he made no move to take them.

"Ah, oh… You see, I tripped and activated that mechanism. I'm incredibly sorry if I've caused you any trouble," he said, embarrassed, though his tone sounded too stricken to be genuine. He held out a hand to her with a wide smile. Grian looked coldly at him and made no move to take it, so the man pulled it away awkwardly. "Hmm. I am Trusty Patches."

"I don't give a shit about your name. You almost made me fall off that bridge," Grian growled, ignoring his attempts to defuse the situation.

"It's all a terrible shame, really. Take this, so you see I harboured no ill intentions," he said, handing her several good-sized souls that she hesitantly took. "I'm leaving, alright?"

He flashed her a broad smile, picked up his weapons with soft, visible movements, and marched through the path along the cliff. Muttering to herself and deciding that she didn't trust the guy in the slightest, Grian moved the mechanism and turned the bridge around again. Eager to escape the place as soon as possible, she crossed it. She didn't want any skeletons or the bald man showing up in such a tight space. However, she didn't see that man again. 

As time passed and she kept descending through the catacombs, Grian noticed she wasn't as fast as usual while fighting, dodging, or moving. It was almost like her brain was stuck in a thick cotton cloud that made it hard for her to process everything, an irritating interference she didn't understand at first, for she was terribly used to being tired. Yet she had never gotten to the point of staggering, spacing out or being clumsy because of it, trying to remember the last time she'd slept well and failing. In fact, she couldn't even remember sleeping lately, plagued by severe guilt and anxiety when she tried to, suffering nightmares capable of twisting her fine control over herself in horrible ways. It was honestly embarrassing that the only times she'd managed to sleep well had been with Solaire.

Snorting indignantly at her own thoughts, Grian pushed them away, forcing herself to go on and on through the endless maze populated by the dead.

After falling while attempting to descend some spiral stone stairs, going through the ceiling of a structure below and ending up in a lower section, Grian found a blacksmith. It was a huge skeleton, and to her surprise, it wasn't hostile, so she decided to ignore it and continue as soon as it helped her find her way. It didn't seem particularly friendly either, so she left and didn't look back.

Grian ended up in deep caverns with what would prove to be her worst nightmare; skeletons riding spiked wheels that went at full speed tried to tear her to pieces, and they succeeded on more than one occasion. Finding it increasingly difficult to stay combat-ready and focused enough to walk the same path again, Grian couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't some horrible, twisted, unfunny joke. She was so terribly tired that she just wanted to lie down somewhere that didn't reek of death and close her eyes. But even that would be awfully useless, and she would just throw herself into unspeakable nightmares fueled by her wounded mind.

She was in such a state when she faced one of the necromancers roaming those catacombs, one especially dangerous and macabre blocking her path. It was tall, with a black blanket that seemed to hide three bodies fused into one holding several lanterns, with each head covered by a mask. It was in a dimly lit crypt, whispering unholy things and handling corpses, surrounded by books. The creature seemed to be in obvious anguish, and upon her intrusion into its area, it immediately turned hostile, attacking with magic, creating doubles with illusions, and shrieking horribly. Dizzy and tired with all the figures around her, Grian took several direct hits, but when she found the real one, she viciously ran her sword through it, blood oozing from the gap in the torso as its heads shuddered and howled.

Hobbling, she approached something floating above the corpse on the table. It looked like a small Humanity, but its edges glowed fiery red, as if on fire, and remained twisted. Not knowing exactly what to make of it, Grian reached out and felt nothing negative at its contact, so she took it carefully and scrutinized it, floating in her open hand. It fused with her like any other Humanity, doing nothing. Deciding she had no time to regret stealing and tinkering with crazy necromancers' weird items, she left.

Trembling, Grian stopped. She had been shaken by a familiar cold ever since entering the deeper parts of the catacombs, where no sunlight reached. It wasn't the Abyss, she wasn't in danger of being devoured by a primordial force, but her mind and body didn't seem to understand it. She was ridiculously terrified, sweating, seeing things where there weren't, and hearing whispers in the dark. More than once, she thought she saw a wolf running in the shadows, whimpering painfully, and she felt its blood trickle down her hands despite wearing gauntlets. She could swear she heard Artorias asking her to protect Sif, and to kill him with dignity. And sometimes, she even listened to the screams and cries of people disfigured beyond belief, waiting for a vast primordial beast to pounce on her at any moment. But then she stopped, looked around, holding up the pyromancy flame, and saw nothing. The whispers disappeared.

Grian heard footsteps in the blackness and saw some flashing coloured lights, and feared she had finished losing her mind. She desperately clung to her weapons, trembling from head to toe, looking in the direction she thought she heard the footsteps and froze as she made out a figure, her eyes wide inside the helm. 

She watched as Solaire walked out of that darkness. It was a product of her clouded mind, no doubt.

"Oh, dear! I didn't expect to find you here. I've been wandering around this horrible place for a while," he brightly said, softly laughing. He seemed painfully real, but Grian didn't relax, move, or respond to him, fearing it was just another hallucination. Noticing her tension and unusual behaviour, Solaire stopped, watching her only a couple of paces away with his blue eyes slightly narrowed inside the depths of his helmet. "Are you alright?"

No, she wasn't. Her insides were an incomprehensible collapsing mess, and she was too tired to know if this was actually happening or if it was only inside her head, pathetically desperate for it to be real.

"Solaire?" Grian asked, her voice serious, hiding everything that was going on inside her.

He nodded, apparently confused.

"Yes, the one and only. You don't seem… hey!" Before she knew what was happening, Grian felt as if her entire body had decided to shut down, and found herself staggering and falling. Then, proving that he was perfectly real, Solaire caught her before she hit the ground, holding her firmly by the shoulders and carefully helping her sit up. "Have no fear. I've got you now. Are you hurt?"

Grian slightly shook her head, sinking into a strange torpor despite trying her best to avoid it.

"I’m just tired," she numbly mumbled, still holding her weapons in her limp grip, as if glued to her hands.

"You don't look just tired. But this is no place to linger," Solaire said, patting her arms and looking around at the blackness, the red feather on top of his helmet fluttering with each movement. "Let's find someplace safe, preferably a bonfire. There must be one around here somewhere. Those little lights seem to act as guides."

Grian exhaled heavily, standing up. She kept herself on her feet with Solaire's help, but her mind seemed dazed and was slowly drifting away, and her body would soon follow and decide it'd had enough. This was real. She couldn't fully process that Solaire was finally right there with her.

"I'm not sure I can walk right now," she admitted.

"Come on. I'll help you," Solaire asserted, urging her to sheath her sword and throw one of her arms around his shoulders.

Grian didn't have many options, so she accepted, acknowledging that walking was much easier when she could lean on a man of commendable strength. Those brief moments allowed her to appreciate the absolute firmness of the knight against her, feeling a surge of relief inside her like a blinding flame. Like so many times, Lordran was as capricious in bringing them together as it was in separating them, and she had managed to survive and hold on until she found him again. 

Terribly drowsy despite the continuous walk, she wished she could tell him everything and let him know her desperation, fiercely clutching the green-haired pauldron under her hand.

All her thoughts were suddenly cut off, and for a moment, she was forcibly thrown back to reality as the ground disappeared from under her feet. She heard Solaire gasp in surprise, suffering the same fate as her and falling down a ramp-like surface. Grian tried to uselessly grab onto anything until she landed face-first on something softer than the ground, something that let out a strangled pained sound after breaking her fall. Then, despite her sluggish mind and deep darkness, she realized she was on top of Solaire, who had taken the full impact of her body, including armour and weapons, and was groaning and laughing in pain beneath her. Grian tried to get up without results, also laughing helplessly in a tangled mess, despite the exhaustion.

"I'm sorry," she said, suddenly aware that her entire body was in contact with his and cursing her brain for bringing that up when she was barely able to think straight, swallowing hard and seeing the vague outline of the knight's great helm just in front of hers, his chest against her breastplate, and feeling his legs between hers, pressing into them as she tried to find support for her knees. She would almost rather have been knocked out than have that last shot of adrenaline and face the unseemly situation.

Solaire caught the sides of her arms and helped steady her. Getting a hold of herself, Grian opted to roll and drop to the side, hearing him as he got to his feet with a heavy sigh, ready to help her up.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I've thrown us down a ramp, walking like a blind bat," Solaire said, apparently unaffected beyond the fact that he was a little short of breath. "At least I think I can feel a bonfire nearby."

"Let's go, then," Grian said, trying to harness that last burst of energy so she wouldn't have to rely on him for support.

They moved forward until the darkness thinned, seeing an open area in the distance, surely beyond Lordran's walls, sinking into a sea of mists where the sun barely touched. Yet it was a promising sight when they were plunged into almost complete blackness.

They found the bonfire after going down a ladder next to a cliff. It was secluded, safe, and overlooking that dimly lit expanse; all they could ask for in a place like this, even if they hadn't seen an enemy since the masked necromancer. Grian dropped heavily to the ground, putting down her weapons and looking at Solaire as he did the same and sat across her, taking a deep breath as the bonfire eased his aches.

Grian watched him as he spoke of how he had immediately headed for the Catacombs after they parted last time, explaining how he used miracles to slay the dead in his path and how he hoped to find his sun among the secrets hidden by Nito, Lord of Illness and Death. He seemed to firmly believe in it, saying that legend had it that the Lord held immeasurable secrets that went beyond death and darkness, secrets that instigated treasonous attempts and revolutions between humans and other Gods. Grian just listened without speaking, engrossed in his honeyed voice, as if the warm sun's rays were suddenly reaching her after decades in the cold dark. She intently looked at his animated gestures and felt something about to collapse inside her with his deep and sincere laugh, with his enthusiasm, suspended in a limbo between the fear and despair that had been dragging for so long that this sudden relief was putting her world upside down. After so long, she had to deal with the fact that it'd only been a sigh for Solaire.

Suddenly, Solaire stopped talking and looked at her in complete stillness. She didn't know what was going on until she felt her shoulders shaking, her eyes clouding, and her chest contracting with an excruciatingly painful feeling.

Solaire rose, rushing over to her and crouching directly in front of her, dropping to one knee and resting his hands on her shoulders before pulling her close and hugging her warmly despite the armour, the helmets and their chain mail.

Suddenly all the pain rushed out and exploded at the comforting gesture, along with the fear and doubts, and she gripped him as tightly as possible, as if letting go would make him disappear forever. He couldn't possibly understand the comfort of his existence or why she was breaking down, but he didn't care. He just wanted to ease the suffering for now. So Solaire held her as Grian was shamefully racked with sobs until she was spent, drained and even more tired than before. 

Solaire jerked away from her then, trying to peer through the slits on her helm, but Grian's grip tightened as he pulled away, tensing.

"Don't go," she breathlessly asked, ignoring how irrational and scared she sounded.

"I won't. I'm here, see?" he softly said, tilting his head forward and resting it against hers, making a soft clank when their helmets met.

Grian held her breath, swallowing hard and allowing herself to enjoy that closeness. She leaned against him for a few long seconds until she calmed down again. At that point, she had no pride left to keep her from wanting this, even at the risk of embarrassing herself. All that mattered was that he seemed willing to give her what she desperately craved.

"I've missed you so much," she whispered, unable to stop before the words left her mouth, yet not regretting them.

Solaire remained silent for a couple of seconds and chuckled softly.

"I'm right here now. I'm so sorry if you've suffered alone on your journey. Here I was, talking about me while you…"

"I enjoyed listening to you. Keep talking. Just... stay close. Please," Grian interrupted.

Solaire moved back a little to reposition himself without hesitation and sat against the natural stone wall, his shoulder and leg touching hers. Grian removed her helmet with a grunt of effort and tossed it carelessly aside, sighing and leaning her head back against the stone. Little by little, she felt better having him there, as if he gave off warmth and rekindled her soul with his mere presence. Finally, she closed her eyes and got comfortable, resting her head on his shoulder, feeling that warmth build and spread as the furry pauldrons tickled her face and the firmness beneath held her.

"I would oblige and talk about anything you wish, but I'd rather listen to you. I want to know what happened to you during our time apart; it certainly worries me," Solaire said, slightly tilting his helmet, just enough to catch a glimpse of her face resting on his shoulder.

Grian bitterly laughed.

"Many things happened. You wouldn't believe any of them, but I trust you, so I’ll make an effort."

"Oh, jolly good. Have some faith in me," he replied with mock indignation.

Again, Grian laughed softly, this time for real.

"I won’t blame you for thinking I am a liar."

"I wouldn’t think such a thing."

For a few seconds, Grian considered how to explain everything while the fatigue reached such a point that she was at risk of falling asleep right then and there.

"I was dragged to the past, trapped there, and had to put an end to Sir Artorias' suffering. Then I rescued his wolf, wandered into the Abyss, and killed a maddened primaeval being. I think he was in love and… I think they used it to drive him crazy," she casually commented, settling on his shoulder. "Then I had to kill Artorias' wolf in the present, and I don't think I’ve really, really slept as much as I need to in… well, I don't know. I might’ve closed my eyes and rested, but not really, not ever since you took me out of the Undead Asylum. It may have been months. Time has no meaning anymore."

They were silent for a few seconds, during which Grian expected to hear Solaire laugh her crazy stories off. Instead, he leaned back against the rock and breathed heavily.

"I think we should sleep, then. It wouldn't hurt me, either."

"Have you heard what I just said?"

"Your words have impressed me, I won't deny it, and I want you to expand on those stories, but now what troubles me the most is that you haven't really slept for months."

"Well, whenever I find you, I spend half the time sleeping," she grumbled, yawning.

"Understandably, you can't always let your guard down, and the presence of a comrade allows you to relax. So I want you to do that right now." He took a deep breath and let it out loudly, stretching and crossing his arms over his chest to keep warm. Grian wasn't sure she felt such a sense of peace because of the presence of a mere comrade but said nothing. "We can't afford beds in Lordran, but it's not too bad here, right? Against a good old stone wall."

Grian smiled, though he didn't see it, sinking back into the human warmth and the exhilarating feeling of having him so close and knowing he was okay, her nose nuzzling the green mane on his pauldrons. She lost herself in the scent of something masculine, warm, heady, and sweet all around him, so distinctively his. No, it wasn't so bad there. It was, without a doubt, the best place to be, even if no luxuries were involved.

It didn't take long for her to fall asleep so soundly that she didn't perceive the soft caress of strong fingers along her cheek and jawline as more than part of the peaceful dreams she had finally achieved.

She woke up totally relaxed, curled up against Solaire and hugging his arm. From the soft snores echoing within his great helm, he was still asleep, his head leaning back against the rock wall.

Grian lifted her head from his shoulder, trailing a hand down his arm until she reached his hand. She took it gently, making sure not to wake him and noting a scar she didn't particularly remember on the back, which had also scratched his iron bracer. The Estus had closed it, but the mark would probably remain forever.

She stroked his hand, following invisible patterns on his skin from the back to the fingers and palm, enjoying the firm touch and warmth. It almost seemed to radiate heat, like a bonfire. Something warm and pleasant rose in her chest when she saw him asleep like that, clinging to him again, overwhelmed by a crushing wave of tenderness. 

"I wish I could tell you how desperately my heart yearns for yours," she whispered, her voice shaky and barely audible even though she knew he wouldn't hear her. She couldn't miss the chance to at least say the words out loud in his presence. There was no way she would ruin their friendship, so that was all she'd ever have. "But I cannot. You're the only good thing left in this world, and I don't deserve you." She buried her face against his arm, between chainmail and furry pauldrons, cruelly fighting to hold back the tear that wanted to escape her eyes. "This world doesn't deserve you…"

Chapter Text

After getting all the sleep she wanted, Grian woke up curled up in a ball, her head resting against Solaire's leg. He was distracted, humming something and throwing pebbles into the void beyond the bonfire.

She sat up, watching him carefully as he turned his head towards her, and remembered what she'd said when she'd first woken up while he'd been sound asleep. A cold panic spread through her body, fearing the possible repercussions of her stupidity spewing that desperate confession; however, Solaire simply got comfortable after staying in the same position while she slept, the lines under his eyes indicating he was smiling and his voice just as warm and kind as ever.

"Feeling better?" he greeted, crossing his legs.

Grian smiled briefly, letting the tension out with a huff.

"Much better. Thank you."

"There is no need to thank me. I've also been able to rest," he kindly said. "Now, what's that about going back in time and defeating primordial creatures?"

Taking a deep breath, Grian prepared to recount everything in detail, even at the risk of further exposing her sanity. She told him everything, absolutely everything, and he listened attentively, intervening only to ask for clarifications. He didn't question anything she said.

"...and I guess that's it. After being forced to kill Sif, I came to the Catacombs and found out that everyone still thinks that Artorias did everything on his own," she concluded, sighing heavily and looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

Solaire nodded, taking a deep breath and making a sound of admiration.

"But you were the true saviour of those people."

Grian frowned.

"I wouldn't say saviour. People were already well beyond saving," she replied.

"They should be revering you as the true hero who stopped the Abyss," he pointed out, with a mixture of indignation and admiration that made her blush even as she continued to frown. "Oolacile's inhabitants might have been lost, but you prevented that from happening to the rest of the world."

"Well, I don't want any revering. I did what I had to do to get back," she retorted.

To get back to you.

Solaire chuckled.

"As you wish. But you have my admiration."

Grian shook her head. She couldn't deny that, despite the absolute self-consciousness she felt after receiving those words from Solaire, she was also flattered and filled with ridiculous pride and eagerness to keep earning his admiration in the future. It was absurd but undeniably real. And absolutely undeserved after all she'd done.

"You shouldn't admire me. You don't know… the things I did," she murmured, aware of Solaire's watchful gaze and wondering if she had a masochistic desire to mess everything up or couldn't simply let him think she was decent. "Did you see an Astoran knight when you came for me in the Undead Asylum?"

Confused, Solaire nodded.

"We had to put an end to his suffering. He was Hollow."

Grian swallowed with some relief. The thought of him still hanging around the place like some mindless and dangerous shadow of himself had continually tormented her.

"Thank you… His name was Oscar. He was a good man; you two would have gotten along well. But you'll never know because he ended up trapped there because of me, and still, he saved me and got me out of the Asylum before going Hollow," she sentenced, containing a tremor in her voice, cursing and resting her face on her hand. "You shouldn't admire someone who hunted the Undead and ended up being one of them. I knew they weren't unconscious beings, I knew they weren't monsters, and still, when I tried to do something, it was already too late. I deserve to be in this situation," she said, smacking her breastplate just where her Darksign burned under the clothing and armour. "I'm just glad I'm not responsible for capturing you. My gang burned almost everyone instead of sending them to the North."

Solaire looked at her with an irritating calm and understanding in his eyes instead of the contempt she deserved.

"We've all done things that filled us with regret later. The important thing is who we are now; you are a remarkable individual."

"What could you possibly have done, accidentally kicking a puppy?" Grian said, snorting dismissively.

He lowered his gaze and tipped his helmet to the ground. Grian immediately regretted speaking so lightly when she knew next to nothing about his previous life other than he'd been an extremely capable knight.

"Oh, I'm far from being guiltless. Knights have orders, and they aren't always fair or benevolent. What matters is what you do to correct your mistakes. What you are now," he said, gently squeezing her forearm.

Grian decided there was no point in seeking to be judged by someone who refused to do so, so she let him think what he wanted, even if she didn't see it the same way. She didn't want to continue trying to ruin their encounter after missing him for so long, anyway.

"I have to find Nito. Where are you headed?" she asked, trying to change topics.

"Oh, in that same direction, most likely. I'll write down my summoning sign if we get separated… which is terribly possible," Solaire assessed with a soft chuckle.

"And after that? If that's not too much to ask, I'd like to know what you have in mind," Grian bashfully asked.

"I may go to the Altar of Sunlight, whether I find my sun or not," he replied, a strange shadow crossing his blue eyes for a few seconds.

Grian stiffened.

"You will find it. Lordran is full of strange wonders," she confidently said, trying to dispel the doubt that seemed to possess him for a moment.

"Of course!" he exclaimed in his usual cheerful, confident manner, as if nothing had happened. He stood up, making noises while he stretched, making Grian smile. "Let's get going, then."

Grian got prepared, too, huffing as Solaire made a gentlemanly gesture, bowing and letting her go first up the ladder. She went up, trying to see something in the dark and turning back, but Solaire didn't appear behind her. She peeked downstairs but already knew she wouldn't see him there, resigned to the well-known ache in her heart.

Sighing, she lowered her gaze to the ground.

"Waiting for someone?" a voice in the dark asked. Grian looked around, weapons at the ready, watching a figure moving a few paces away. She cautiously approached, finding the calm smile of the bald man she'd met at the upper levels of the Catacombs. "Nice to see you back in one piece. Have you seen that thing down there? It's absolutely amazing!"

She should have listened to her instincts, but here she was, at the bottom of a dark pit littered with bones. The promise of riches hadn't lured Grian, but when the man mentioned that several people had fallen at the chasm, she couldn't help but peek down, looking for them. And she'd joined them as soon as the damn liar kicked her in the back and sent her flying down, gasping for breath on the ground as he laughed.

"I'll strip any trinkets from your corpse. That's the real treasure!"

Grian staggered to her feet, sure she'd cracked some rib, and looked up at Patches in a rage. His smug posture and laughter made her blood boil.

"I'll rip out your entrails and hang them on your disgusting little neck like pendants, see if they look like trinkets to you! Bloody rat, I'm going to polish the floor of this hole with your bald head!" she spat, gripping the hilt of her sword so tightly as she raised it towards the man, it shook in anger.

Patches burst into laughter once again.

"I'd worry about the things that want to rip your guts out down there. See you soon!"

And without further ado, he turned around and disappeared at the top of the precipice.

Cursing loudly, Grian turned in time to hear something creaking and crawling towards her. She didn't quite know what it was, but it looked like an elongated column made up of an amalgamation of human debris, with dozens of arms sticking out and reaching towards her.

After breaking the thing, because she didn't know if it was really dead, she groped in the dark and two figures rushed towards her. Grian snarled and covered herself as she was suddenly beset by two clerics of the Way of White. Unpleasant as they'd been to her, she didn't take satisfaction in seeing them completely Hollow, possessed by mindless rage as they tried to kill her by any means possible. She managed to control them using the terrain, but they cornered her again, pushing and disarming her against one of the stone walls. Desperate, Grian summoned her pyromancy, burning them both to a crisp and hearing their screams as she fell to her knees, exhausted. She stopped before losing consciousness, inwardly thanking Laurentius and the flame, which settled serenely inside her.

Watching as the two men agonised, released from their burden, Grian reached for her bastard sword and tried to catch her breath. Then, she heard crying in the dark. Frowning, she realised that there was someone crouched on the ground —the woman those clerics had been escorting.

The woman's shock and sadness after what happened to her and her companions was totally understandable, and Grian took pity on her, realising that she was scared, believing herself lost forever in the dark, and her mission failed. Between stammers and profuse gratitude, Grian helped her up when she saw she was terribly weak. Ultimately, she opted to sheath her sword and throw the shield behind her back, picking her up with one hand under her knees and another on her back, looking for some way to get out.

"It pains me to think of the problems my failings have caused. I am certain that both Vince and Nico are grateful to you. Thank you very much..." she murmured, delicately leaning a hand on her cuirass with a lost look. Grian just growled. She was pretty sure those two would've never thanked her for anything. "Now this mission is lost, as well as two lives."

Trying to distract her while she tried to find a way to get out of there, not wanting her to sink into despair, Grian tried to speak and maintain her stability.

"I don't quite remember your name," she said.

"Reah of Thorolund. Ah… what a gallant saviour after being treated with terrible condescension."

At least she acknowledged they'd acted like detached, uppity assholes in their first encounter. It was something.

"What mission could you possibly have in a place like this?"

"Finding an ancient rite to kindle the bonfires beyond its normal capabilities," she replied, shaking her head. "Some necromancer or servant of the Gravelord must guard it. Unfortunately, we had no luck finding it and ended up here…"

"It may be a stupid question, but… What does it look like? I found something very strange in a necromancer's lair."

She felt Reah's gaze on her, suddenly hopeful, the unease almost entirely gone.

"I am not sure. It should be in the form of a peculiar, altered, and very ancient energy accumulation," she explained.

Grian nodded, not adding anything else and gently putting her back on her feet when she found some stairs to get out. She waited to get to the bonfire to show her the strange thing she found at Pinwheel's lair without finding a trace of Patches to take revenge. She didn't know if he was also responsible for pushing Reah and her lackeys, but at least she gave the woman that thing that turned out to be a rite she didn't know how to use. She stiffened as Reah embraced her and left her at the bonfire, promising to return to travel together to Firelink Shrine. She didn't know if she could keep her promise since she never knew if she would emerge victorious, but that calmed Reah's nerves anyway.

Grian found Solaire's summoning sign near the bone dump surrounding Nito's dwelling. To her surprise, the fight wasn't as horrible as she had expected as long as she ignored the continuous feeling of being sick and suffering excruciating pain while they attacked the primordial being, as well as the army of the dead. The fact that she thought it wasn't that horrible spoke volumes about what she had endured and the standards she held at the moment.

Neither the waves of illness nor the looming stench of death could break them, not when they were already Undead and accustomed to the most unpleasant sensations. The Gravelord was clearly frustrated, furious, feeling something he surely wasn't used to. Fear. Desperation. The amalgam of corpses adorning Nito's black blanket fell apart as the First of the Dead died before two warriors who, in normal human conditions, wouldn't have lasted even half a minute against him. But that Curse acted as a kind of strange blessing. Grian and Solaire were victorious in their first and second fight when Grian was summoned into his world.

And after warping bonfires with Reah and reaching the Shrine, leaving her safe and sound to study the rite, she went directly to deliver Nito's Soul to the Lordvessel, ignoring Frampt. He still spoke and told her that she should go immediately to the ruins of New Londo, below Firelink, asserting that she was ready, but she went in the opposite direction, towards the Undead Burg, to reach the Altar of Sunlight and meet again with Solaire. She deserved to do what she wanted for a bit after putting up the hectic pilgrimage and letting it be her absolute priority. And she unapologetically wanted to see Solaire.

Once Grian reached the Altar's bonfire and knew she was safe, she left her sword, helmet and shield against a wall and crossed the portico to the balcony outside, between green grass and vines. Solaire was already there, leaning against the stone railing. She smiled slightly as she saw him totally absorbed in his contemplation of the sun, admiring his strong back and broad shoulders perfectly framed by the old white surcoat and the furry pauldrons as she climbed the steps towards him. She stood next to him, also leaning against the railing and closing her eyes, enjoying the warm breeze and the rays of the sun against her skin, listening to the distant singing of birds and the wind through the branches of the trees on the slopes nearby. Of all the places in Lordran, of all the horrible locations, this one stood out as incredibly beautiful. It wasn't as spectacular as Anor Londo, but Grian found it more authentic and comforting, without the unattainable heavenly halo and connotation of pain it had held for her.

"Hmm... Ah, oh... Hello there," Solaire said, tilting his helmeted head slightly to one side without looking at her. Grian immediately widened her eyes and tensed up at his tone, stabbed by an unfamiliar concern at the despondency in his voice. He seemed mildly surprised to see her there in the most distracted and listless way possible.

"Are you okay?" she uneasily asked, searching for his gaze, but he turned back to the landscape.

"Forgive me. I was just pondering… about my poor fortune," he said, sighing deeply and shaking his head. "I did not find my own sun. Not in Anor Londo, not in Twilight Blighttown, the Duke’s Archives or the Tomb of the Gravelord… Where else might my sun be? Lost Izalith? But I cannot give up. I became Undead to pursue this!"

Trying to contain the anguish taking over her seeing him like that, Grian desperately thought about how to help him. She had never expected to see those doubts taking root deep enough to leave him in that depressed state, not when they had been practically nonexistent before. He had always been sure of his path despite everything and everyone, his faith unwavering, but it seemed that the harshness of reality had finally begun to break through the knight's impenetrable fantasy. And panic began to pierce Grian like needles of ice as she realised how catastrophic it could be if Solaire ever considered giving up or kept doubting himself. It couldn't bring anything good.

Without hesitation, she placed her hand over his on the railing, squeezing it gently and feeling relieved when he stopped staring intently at the landscape. His observation of the sun hadn't been filled with joy or purpose, and he didn't need to keep doing it if it only led him into the jaws of his unexpected inner demons. Finally, Solaire tilted his helmet and stared at their hands.

"No, you cannot give up. I won't let you," Grian told him with soft firmness. He kept avoiding her gaze.

After a few seconds of struggling with something in his head, Solaire broke the silence.

"It's just… when I peer at the Sun up above, it occurs to me… What if I am seen as a laughing stock, a blind fool with no reason?" he said, his voice drenched in heartbreaking dejection, making Grian clench her fists, irrationally ready to fight to the death with offenders who weren't even present and probably didn't even exist. Solaire laughed bitterly and sadly at himself. Well, I guess they wouldn't be far off!"

He had never cared what people thought. Something was terribly wrong for that to suddenly have gained so much relevance to him, for his sun not to be an indelible goal but rather the mark of his imminent fear of failure.

"If someone laughs at you, it's the last thing they'll do. I'll make sure of that," Grian said, listening to his low, almost tired laugh resonating inside the helmet.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" he asked with expectant vulnerability.

Grian's jaw tightened, holding back the lump in her throat at the fact that she once thought that. Solaire wouldn't even have cared at the time; in fact, he'd mentioned that everyone reacted with surprise or scepticism at his peculiar obsession and dedication to the sun. However, she had long decided that whether it was crazy or not, the only thing that mattered to her was that it was important to him, that it motivated him and allowed him to have the will to overcome difficulties that few could, and maintain a joyful attitude.

Regretting wearing the gauntlet, Grian gently rubbed Solaire's hand under his own, finally pulling hers away and taking a deep breath.

"I think that if you are crazy, everyone should have the same kind of craziness to make this world better," Grian said, smiling slightly when she finally saw his blue eyes through the helmet's eye-slits, changing from reflecting painful sorrow to a softer expression. "Whatever your sun is, you shouldn't give up until you find it, and you shouldn't give a shit about what people think. I can assure you that the vast majority of people out there respect and support you. And I don't want you wasting your time thinking about absurd things."

Solaire laughed inside his helm, pulling away from the railing and looking at her with that shadow finally receding. Grian, however, could see that it was still behind his kind eyes, and she had to pretend that it didn't frighten her.

"Your words bring me comfort. I don't know what I would do without you," he said, partly with his usual humorous tone and partly with a certain seriousness.

Grian snorted, taking it as a joking way of easing the situation.

"You'd be stuck thinking nonsense until the world finally ended," she said, reaching for his right pauldron, which had a dark stain that looked like ash and dried blood matting the green fur. She brushed it clean with her fingers under Solaire's silent gaze and flashed him a half smile. "Take care of this, would you? I hope you didn't skin that fearsome green beast of Astora for the pelt to stay matted on your shoulders."

She spoke jokingly to distract him, but she immediately regretted it when she saw the confusion in the knight's blue eyes. Instead, she felt even more dread slithering through her heart.

"The green beast of...? Ah… I can't remember where I got this from. How do you even know that?" he asked, baffled, looking away and thinking about it.

Swallowing heavily and making sure none of the desolation and fear she felt was reflected externally, Grian forced a reassuring smile. The last thing she wanted was to scare him.

"You mentioned it once. It was just a silly story, don't worry," she said, desperately thinking of yet another attempt to wave the matter off. She didn't want to think about what memory loss and mood swings meant, telling herself that Solaire could easily get over it once he regained his spirits and confidence. Perhaps he had lost too many souls or Humanity, but he was perfectly capable of recovering them. "I have to head towards the Ruins of New Londo, but after that, I will go to Lost Izalith. I'll try not to linger too long in the ruins."

Solaire tensed, straightening up with a determined stance.

"I will go with you, then. I have heard that the ruined city is flooded and dangerous. It was touched by the Abyss."

"No! No. Absolutely not. Do not go near the Abyss. I can do it by myself," she said, holding up her hands to stop any arguing. The very thought of him approaching a place corrupted by the Abyss in this state was appalling. "Just stay here, enjoy the sun and think about beautiful things. I'll find you in Izalith, okay?"

Solaire cocked his head slightly to one side with a deep, inscrutable gleam in his eyes, watching her silently for several long seconds as she waited expectantly.

"As you wish."

There was a strange tone in his voice. It usually had a deep resonance of its own, a peculiar and agreeable gravity, but this time there was something different about it, something that, along with that look, Grian couldn't quite recognise and interpreted as some vague attempt at absent-minded lying.

"Swear it," she snapped, frowning and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Don't you trust me?" he facetiously inquired.

"Oh, most certainly. Swear it anyway."

Chortling, Solaire laid a hand on his chest, right over the sun painted on his surcoat.

"I swear not to enter the Ruins of New Londo unless you disappear into them for longer than necessary."

Grian cursed loudly, turning her back on him and leaning against the railing, sulking.

"Bloody hell, do you really have to make this harder than necessary..."

"You can ask me anything your heart desires, but I will not let you go alone into the Abyss twice and abandon you to an unknown fate. You cannot try to keep me out of harm's way and ask me not to do the same for you," he said behind her, stepping closer.

He spoke with an intensity that spread a burning heat through her body, constricting her throat and making her knees go weak. It took Grian a while to get her bearings and speak without her voice shaking, making a fool of herself.

"Right. Listen," she muttered, sighing and trying to make the odd inflexion in her voice sound entirely and exclusively annoyed. "I'll find a way to let you know I left New Londo alive. And if I don't get out, you really don't have to go in there and put yourself in danger. That's stupid, and if you do that, I will haunt you like an extremely aggravating ghost for all eternity. Just think that if I die fighting… well, at least I will have accomplished one of my original objectives here."

"Don't say that," Solaire scolded, her heart sinking at his dismayed voice.

"Well… sorry, but that was the original reason behind my pilgrimage," she muttered, looking out at the beautiful scenery and briefly looking up at the shimmering sun. She was no longer ashamed to admit her pessimistic view of her existence in the past. "Now I have other reasons, don't worry. But falling during a fight is better than surrendering. You can't deny that."

There were a few moments of silence, and Solaire answered quietly.

"I suppose. But please, don't die."

Grian turned around, committing Solaire's appearance to memory, every detail, knowing that dragging this out would only make it more difficult. She would take him with her as a memory, just as she did in Oolacile.

"I'll surely die a few times, but you won't get rid of me that easily. See you soon."

And without further ado, she went by him, ignoring the immediate pain of leaving him behind, feeling as if a force almost impossible to resist forced her to turn around and stay with him a little longer. Ignoring it was like ripping something out of her own soul, but outwardly she marched with stolid determination.

Seeing the Ruins of New Londo brought a familiar fear to Grian's heart, but this situation was even more sinister than Oolacile. The entire city was submerged, flooded, and contained by gates that kept the water level eternally stable in the abandoned underground city.

The penetrating darkness, the emptiness, and the echo of dripping water made her hair stand on end. Here the inhabitants were only memories, ghosts that could only be reached with temporary curses. Those horrible apparitions killed her more than once, and Grian was ashamed to say that each time she died screaming, terrified of those long arms and spectral faces twisted in agony. She could feel their grudge and overwhelming suffering, knowing she could only disperse those entities temporarily, and she had to hurry to find her target and get out of there.

Her first triumph was finding the mechanism of the city gates, releasing the water and getting access to levels covered for centuries. But once there, she only found more horrors, beings corrupted by the Abyss lurking around every corner.

Gasping for air before making her way through the endless sodden, ruined streets, Grian jumped at the sound of footsteps on the silt and wet rock. She braced herself to fight, raising her sword, and watched tensely as she saw a corrupted knight approaching. However, he wasn't wearing skeletal armour, but Astoran, and his weapons were sheathed.

"What do you think of this place? Surely an ode to Gwyn's brutality, isn't it?" he said, raising his arms and pointing to the dark city in the deep cave around him.

"You attacked me and killed me in the Depths," Grian barked, recognising him.

The man seemed to take a deep breath, shrugging and nodding.

"It was nothing personal. I didn't recognise you until later, dear, and I needed the Humanities. But I would say that after everything I've done, it's not fair that you're focusing on that," he replied, leaning against the pillar to his side, raising one hand and counting with his fingers. "Trying to contain that sick fuck, Edgert. Letting your friends know he had you and telling them where to look for you. Getting your stuff back from that perverted dragon's lair. Giving you a way to go back in time. And then, of course, convincing Kaathe that you're more valuable as a willing ally."

Grian slightly lowered her sword, looking at him in disbelief and extreme confusion. Her first instinct was not to believe him, but those details were way too precise for any liar, and he fit the description of her convenient benefactor.

"And why would you do all that? Who are you?" Grian growled, still not letting her guard down.

“I am Raedan of Astora. And you are Grianach of Berenike. No further introductions are necessary. I remember you perfectly," he said, tilting his head. "Orvyn… he's not here anymore, but he'd be pestering you with questions about that sun knight and congratulating you for cutting ties with Lloyd's dogs."

Closing her eyes momentarily as she was hit with new memories, Grian let herself fall back into them, jolted by the searing pain in the knight's voice at the mention of that name.

After ambushing that first knight of Astora, Grian had begun to question things too much, too often. She tried not to let her companions notice, especially her boss, Godiva, knowing that all her protection and acceptance could be taken away if she found out. Loyalty to the gang had to be unwavering, as well as to their values, and as she repeated, they had to be a family. And she did love them like a family, but she was reeling anyway. How could she possibly see what they were doing as a heroic and divine cause when she knew they were just murderous mercenaries sending children and innocents into exile or the stake?

For this reason, when one day she found her prey fleeing from a purge in a nearby town, she didn't give the signal to her companions. She held the horse still in front of them and watched them. Another Astoran knight stood protectively before a man with colourful clothing and a terrified expression, obviously far from a warrior. She thought about how to let them go even before she heard the man's pleas and the knight's protective growls, sword drawn and shield ready. But her inaction caused her to fail. Her peers finally caught them for her.

Grian saw them in one of the many cages that night, receiving the last blessings from the clerics of the Way of White since they would shortly be feeding the bonfire flames. That had been their destined fate. They wouldn't go on a pilgrimage or rot in a cell. The knight was too belligerent, and the other man too weak to be useful.

She approached them after seeing how they sought comfort in each other. The knight removed his helmet and gently rested his forehead against the other man's. They kissed, embraced and swore to stay together with dignity until the end.

Grian couldn't save everyone, but they were there because of her, and their cage was far away, so she decided to start by saving them. She opened the gate of their cage, allowed them time to get away, told them where to go to avoid the patrols, and when the alarm was raised, she went out to look for them, pretending to be hunting them down. Later, she found them in the cave she had indicated and helped them further away.

Grian spent days with them, as long as the others kept looking and she could pretend.

"Is there no one keeping you tied to that little group? A love interest, perhaps?" Orvyn asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Grian blushed and answered negatively.

"Can you leave her alone? She's risking her life helping us, and you decide it's a good idea to get into her private life," Raedan growled.

"Ugh. Gossiping raises anyone's spirits. I'm sure she likes it too."

Grian listened to their conversations, laughing most of the time. Orvyn told her his whole life without holding back. He had been a tailor serving Raedan's Lord. The two escaped together when Orvyn was branded with the Darksign, and soon after, Raedan was branded too. It was clear that they loved each other fiercely and that Raedan was willing to follow Orvyn as his protector in his decision to pilgrimage to Lordran, or anywhere he wanted, for that matter. They would go together to the end of the world.

They got separated, then. Grian hoped they were safe. She never saw or remembered them again.

Grian looked at Raedan, at his dark and corrupted armour. 

"What happened to you?" she asked, horrified.

Raedan shrugged again, obviously trying to contain whatever feelings he might have about it.

"We ran, we got to this bloody place, just like Orvyn wanted, and he died chasing a lie," he said, his stoic demeanour showing unfathomable pain. "I owed you all the time I spent with him after our capture, so when I found out who you were, I tried to return the favour and incidentally make you see what a terrible mistake you're making by doing what Frampt tells you. There is nothing for Humanity in the Flame. We are part of the Darkness, but this," he raised his arms, gesturing at the ruins around him "and Oolacile is what happens when you defy the power of the Gods. They fear us, Grianach, and despise us. We are nothing more than slaves for them."

"You… you gave me the pendant, that's why it was in my stuff, that's why I ended up there…" Grian murmured with mounting shock, shifting from side to side.

"Yes, it was me. I've seen it all. I've seen the lies, the manipulation, the disaster, and the cruelty to which they subjected Manus, whose only crime was having a power that Gwyn hated and loving another soul," he said, approaching her and filling his words with open contempt, leaving stoicism behind. "They don't care about love, life or Humanity. Gwyn and his kin are selfish and cruel creatures who blame their failures on those they torture."

"You sent me back in time. I had to go into the Abyss and destroy a primordial creature! I thought I would never get to see Solaire again because of your stupid idea!" Grian roared, facing him, her entire body shaking.

"You won't see him again anyway if you don't understand what I'm trying to tell you," Raedan coldly replied, not backing down at her anger. "You will both be nothing but kindling or drooling shells that won't even know who they were before. So after you kill the Four Kings, as I know you will, talk to Kaathe and go to Anor Londo. Inspect Princess Gwynevere's presence closely and prepare for the consequences," he said, turning his back on her and speaking over his shoulder before walking away. "I hope I can gain you some time with that knight. Now I am the one taking you out of the cage."

Chapter Text

Artorias' ring and pendant helped Grian defeat the Four Kings, and her previous experience helped her not to panic in the Abyss. Dealing with Frampt also helped her learn how to deal with Kaathe, another serpent just as nasty and just as willing to use her for his own purposes. Those purposes, however, were totally opposed to Frampt's.

Kaathe wished for a rise of the Dark, for the reign of humans without any Flame, and encouraged her to steal Humanity from others whenever she needed to grow stronger. There was truth in much of what he said, however, speaking of the Dark Soul, of Gwyn's fear of humans and how he used them for his own purposes, extending the Age of Fire. Grian lost any respect she might've had for Gwyn, but at the same time, she saw cruelty in that serpent, in how she offered her the power to drain the life of others and thus overcome the Curse and not become Hollow. And he was also behind her kidnapping by Edgert, even if he didn't explicitly ask for him to torture her.

"Undead warrior, we stand at the crossroads. Only I know the truth about your fate. You must destroy the fading Lord Gwyn, who has coddled Fire and resisted nature, and become the Fourth Lord, so you can usher in the Age of Dark!"

Grian took a step back into the darkness at his ominous words, at the eagerness and need behind them. Like Frampt, he cast a terrifying responsibility on her, even if it was the complete opposite, and like Frampt, she could feel the manipulation behind it. Both paths had truths and lies, and she was at a loss for what to do. There was comfort and pain in the disparity of the Flame and the Dark Soul, just as in a sunny day and a still night under the stars, but the things that crept past her vision clouded reality, and they twisted horribly. They asked her to choose between two things that weren't inherently good or bad, pretending to care about her when they only wanted the power she'd amassed through suffering.

However, she still followed Raedan's instructions. She owed him that, at the very least.

Grian travelled back to Anor Londo, lumbering up to Princess Gwynevere, ignoring her when she asked her to step back. She reached out and touched one of her legs, meeting an odd resistance as the Goddess moved in a vague attempt to defend herself. Grian would have previously considered it heresy, but not after the suspicion that those Gods were behind everything wrong happening to Humanity. Jaw clenched, she drew her sword and struck at Gwynevere, and her body fell apart before her eyes like a mirage, leaving her in complete darkness as the light suddenly died in the sacred city of the Gods. Armed servants immediately beset her, starting with the Fire Keeper of the main bonfire, and a delicate voice cursed her. Confused, she decided to investigate to find out who was behind it; Gwynevere might have been an illusion, like everything else, but someone was behind the curtain. Someone cleverly hiding, undoubtedly Gwyn's kin, maintaining the delusion of grandeur and speaking through a false image. However, she had underestimated them, for there was no way to find whoever lurked in the shadows of Anor Londo. She found a cursed painting that dragged her into a cold, painted world, dark and full of rot, but no trace of the culprit.

Grian was dizzy, confused, and terribly scared as she realised she hadn't told Solaire she was okay. And the worst part was that she didn't know how to get out of there. She could not escape that nightmare until she found a kind soul hiding in the painting. It didn't take much digging to realise that Priscilla wasn't a respected or desired part of Gwyn's Royal Family, trapped and hidden where she couldn't disturb them. Nevertheless, her sincere and benevolent temperament wasn't a facade. She was clearly not behind the deceptions outside the painting, so Grian accepted her help without hesitation, throwing herself into the void and returning to the same building where Tarkus' corpse rested. She hadn't been able to look in his direction, running back to the bonfire near the Duke's Archives and warping over to the Altar of Sunlight.

Grian almost dropped to her knees with relief when she saw the sun still shining, without knowing how or why. Maybe that sun wasn't an illusion?

However, she immediately focused on Solaire not being on the balcony, agitatedly thinking about what to do or where to go. Finally, she decided to try putting her summoning sign down, praying he hadn't left, tossing and turning at the edge of a nervous breakdown.

She went very still, sensing someone was summoning her. But it was a stranger. As she eyed him uneasily, he greeted her with a slight nod.

"I take it you're the friend Solaire mentioned," the stranger said. He looked like a rugged travelling sorcerer. "He told me that I might find you around here, then asked me to make sure you were okay if I saw you and left for Firelink Shrine. He seemed agitated and distracted, and I couldn't help but worry. I will let him know that I found you… if he's still in Firelink, that is."

Grian nodded curtly, worried and frantic to leave immediately to also go to Firelink. Luckily the man seemed as unwilling to lose his time there as she was and promptly cut the junction between worlds with a soapstone-like mineral.

With one last look at the Burg, Grian pushed away the terrible doubts and fears plaguing her mind and focused on her next objective; check Firelink Shrine and then get to Lost Izalith. The Witch of Izalith was her last target anyway, whether she listened to Frampt or Kaathe. She would decide what to do once she had all the Soul Fragments. Now she had to move and find Solaire.

Grian found no sign of Solaire in Firelink Shrine, so she wasted no time and marched towards the deep burning lands, hoping he had headed in that direction.

She had to briefly enter the Ruins of New Londo to find the shortcut down to the poison lakes at the base of Blighttown, where she stumbled upon the crestfallen warrior she thought was lost forever. And he was. He had gone absolutely Hollow, attacking her on sight, and she was forced to kill him, leaving the place with an annoying feeling stuck in her chest after the event. Venturing further, she was haunted by memories as she reached the narrow valley where she fell with Solaire into the river.

Tirelessly, she went deeper and deeper, defeating the Hollows and beasts in her path and trying not to think about how she subconsciously wanted to go the other way. She didn't miss the poison, the disgusting smell, the mosquitoes, and the fire. The rot was only getting worse, but she forced herself to walk until her feet sank into the poisonous mud, padding heavily. It would have been great to teleport to a bonfire near Lost Izalith, but exposing the lie in Anor Londo had revoked that privilege as soon as she used it one last time to get out of there.

Deep in the swamps, she found Siegmeyer, who needed moss to get rid of the poison, and then saw him leaving in a rush once she gave it to him, eager to resume his adventures.

Looking around the place and trying to stay focused, Grian knew that it made sense to try to end all the suffering, for the agony and decay not only affected her, but it was no longer clear which path to take to reach that goal. Destroying everything and letting the world sink into darkness wasn't much better than being some deities' puppet, even if it supposedly was in Humanity's best interest. Just because it was the opposite of what Gwyn wanted didn't guarantee they weren't indulging in something worse. Grian feared that she could follow two paths led by serpents that didn't have Humanity's safety and happiness as a priority no matter how much they lied, and she desperately needed to find another path, one that would somehow reconcile the dark and light in a non-destructive disparity. But she was just a pawn walking blindly, an Undead shuffling through a swamp who died and died again, that saw a part of the truth and couldn't understand it beyond the basics, forced to decide things out of her control. Surely they wouldn't guide her so willingly towards unfathomable power if she had any real control over it.

Grian was brutally hit from the side by something hot and painful, so big and with such force that she fell full length into the mud. She tried to get up, shaking her head to get the mud off her helm so she could see, but she barely started to get up when another ball of flames slammed into her. Then, growling in pain and rage, she firmly grasped her shield and covered herself, stopping the next blazing ball. Then, she spun around and charged in that direction, crashing into someone and knocking them off their feet.

Grian swung her bastard sword, taking advantage of having her attacker on the ground to slash them, but she kept the sword up when she saw who she had pushed in the mud and was now lying on his back, ready to attack her yet again. She stared at the tattered clothing, brown hair, and deep-set dark eyes in a face that had been kind and was now twisted with murderous emptiness. Her mind went blank for a few moments that seemed to last an eternity, and only once thing resonated in the distance.

Laurentius. 

Her sword came down before he could unleash another pyromancy, spearing through his skull as swiftly and mercifully as she could. She saw how his body writhed briefly before going absolutely still. Then she yanked the sword from his head and looked at the blood and bits of bone and brain stuck to the blade.

Grian hobbled to a nearby islet and flopped down with an empty stare. 

No. Laurentius wouldn't possibly have gone down there. He wouldn't have attacked her. That made no sense. She'd told him not to go. She'd warned him and told him it was dangerous, so he couldn't be there. 

Dropping her sword to the side, she called up the pyromancy flame, looked at it, and decided it felt the same. If he had died… if she'd killed him, something would have changed, for sure. 

After an unbearable amount of time, Grian realised that she was shaking and had tears in her eyes for some reason. She didn't know why since Laurentius couldn't be there; it was just some other pyromancer who looked like him. She would never have cracked his head open in combat because she would've never fought against him. It was absolutely impossible. She laughed, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of such notions; then, she got up from the ground and walked away, shaking her head.

That corpse wasn't Laurentius.

An unbearable emptiness settled in her chest, and some voices inside her head began to rumble, contradicting her previous attempts to escape. Those mute murmurs repeated the opposite, that this was Laurentius, that he had gone mad, and she had brutally killed him forever in an instant.

Have I killed him? Why was he…?

When the situation finally settled in her mind, she had to lay against a twisted root among the cobwebs that marked the entrance to Quelaag's domain, removing her helmet and vomiting bile. As with Tarkus, she had been unable to even pick him up and let him rest in a more dignified place, fleeing the pain. She hadn't even wanted to allow herself to feel the pain, letting her mind wander in circles, denying reality. What a pathetic excuse for a person, weak and incapable of facing reality.

She started running as if being chased by a monster, going through the entrance to Quelaag's domain, down the stairs beyond the Bell, and tripped over one of the bulbous things under the ruins, falling against a wall. Only that wall wasn't stable; it disappeared as soon as she touched it.

Grian gave a dry grunt as she landed on the floor, glaring down a narrow hallway filled with more bags of spider webs. Dazed, she saw someone in the background, kneeling. It was a dark figure she could barely make out, but she saw an armoured hand reach out reverently toward another hand, pale and delicate. All her attention, however, shifted to the person crawling on the ground in front of her. His back was full of bumps.

"Oh, dear… What do we have here? A new servant? Have you come to carry eggs for our Lady?"

Grian scrambled to her feet, panting and getting a good look at the stranger's back, covered in egg sacs. She had to press a hand over her mouth to stop herself from vomiting yet again. The dark figure in the background rose to its feet, and Grian didn't think twice. She ran off without wanting to interrupt whatever she had just stumbled upon.

She kept running until she was out of the tunnels, battered by the searing heat from the land of fire and distant ruins. She had to find Solaire and make sure he was alright, but there was no sign of him. After facing a gigantic, misshapen demon responsible for keeping the lava level impossibly high, she tried to stay focused. As soon as the pathways were exposed, she blazed a path through the ancient ruins of Lost Izalith, looking for him like a mad creature.

Grian didn't know exactly what had happened to that cursed land, other than that it had suffered a catastrophe caused by the Witch of Izalith's intentions to replicate the Flame, and now only ruins and demons remained. She pushed through the desolation and searing heat, sweating, sticky with mud and shaken from the run and the hurt and fear bottled up inside her. Finding a stream of water trickling down a rock wall was a small blessing, but it almost reached cooking temperature when it landed where she stood. However, she quickly removed her armour and began to wash thoroughly, ignoring the pain of the boiling water. She rubbed her skin, her face, the hair starting to grow longer on her head, and then her clothes, using some leaves with a strong menthol smell that she had found in the woods to get rid of the foul smell after several cleanings.

She had no right to feel better, but she did. She felt way better after washing herself off, drinking some Estus, and chewing some moss to get rid of the last effects of the poison and the blisters she'd obtained from washing herself in boiling water.

Taking a deep breath and getting ready to fight again, she wandered through every corner of those lonely ruins, finding only demons. There was no sign of Solaire or his summoning sign, and she was starting to get horribly nervous. After what she had just experienced with Laurentius, she was harassed by fear and anxiety, prey to all kinds of catastrophic thoughts and horrible situations, so she jumped on his summoning sign when she finally found it, shining among some roots in a deep corridor.

Her hands trembled as she watched him rise, glowing like a golden sun. The fact that they were in no position to carry on a normal conversation, and she couldn't even know how much Lordran's warped time had played against them, irritated her. That land was a merciless purgatory.

"I was worried. Are you alright?" she uneasily asked, taking a step closer. Solaire remained impassive, nodding slightly in response. Swallowing, Grian nodded as well, seeing something strange in his attitude, knowing immediately it wasn't alright. "Do you want me to help you and write my sign down?"

Solaire shook his head negatively. Grian kept the feeling of agitation to herself, respecting his decision and moving on when he nodded at her, pointing down the hall to a lake of lava. There were hardly any islets to perch on without getting burned, but Grian jumped from one to the other as Solaire walked without a care in the world. She didn't know if it was because he was a summoned phantom or because he didn't care, but it didn't make a dent in him, and when they fought the centipede demon, he was able to use it to his advantage and avoid being cornered on safe ground. Grian found a strange black ring on one of the centipede's tiny legs when they killed it. Perhaps it had been a person before, and it had stuck uncomfortably in the appendage? As Solaire returned to his world, Grian tried on the ring and discovered the reason for the knight's ability to walk through molten lava. He must have had a similar one, for it was nothing more than a nuisance to step on it while wearing it.

It certainly made her way out of there much easier.

Grian paused at the end of a long rocky tunnel leading out of the lake, seeing a bonfire before the start of the next set of caves and branches twisting around burning lava. She saw Solaire sitting a short distance from the fire, and her heart started beating faster. He was leaning on one bent leg while keeping the other on the ground, apparently lost in thought. She approached him slowly, setting her things aside and taking off her helmet, but Solaire never looked back at her. Not even when she sat next to him. Grian sensed an unnaturally dark and cold energy suffocating the knight's brilliant personality, separating him from the world and the torrid environment.

"Solaire?" Grian softly called.

After a few seconds in silence, she had her answer as to whether he had managed to escape that growing shadow stalking him or not.

"Why? Why…? After all this searching, I still cannot find it…" he said in the most heartbreaking tone, almost speaking to himself.

He didn't seem to care that she was there, lost in an unfathomable melancholy beyond anything Grian could have imagined. She shuddered at his voice, the pain and indifference to anything but the obsession tormenting his mind over constant failure, and she was gripped by paralysing dread. The shadow preying on him seemed to be winning, and she didn't know if there was anything she could do to push it away other than stubbornly fighting in every possible way to bring him back.

"Solaire, don't give up. We've barely explored this place yet; it can be anywhere and…"

"Was it all a lie? Have I done this all, for nothing? Oh, my sun... My dear, dear sun..." he said, completely dejected, ignoring her as if each one was still in his own world.

Grian leaned slightly into him, growing desperate, for this had never happened before. It was as if he was sinking deeper and deeper into a hole where he couldn't possibly hear her.

"I think you need souls and… and Humanities. Come, let me give you some, please. You'll feel better," she encouragingly said, trying to sound reassuring and fully willing to give him everything she had.

"I just need my sun..."

At least he'd heard her. 

"I understand it's frustrating, but you can't give up. I'll help you," she softly said, hoping to alleviate his anguish somehow.

Grian tried to take his hand, as she had done at the Altar of Sunlight. She flinched, however, when Solaire immediately yanked it away from her, as if he found the mere contact unbearable. He didn't even look at her. Grian stood there silently, hurt and confused at the open contempt in the gesture, lowering her eyes to the ground.

"How could you possibly understand? Don't touch me. Leave me alone…" he said, his tone harried and downcast, his hands cupping his helmet as if to shield himself from the outside world and somehow hold his head in place.

Grian pulled back, leaning back against the stone wall and barely holding back the lump in her throat at his words. She tried to convince herself it wasn't what he would've said under normal circumstances, but it didn't ease the pain gripping at her. It didn't dispel the fact that this was the first time Solaire had been unfriendly and rejected her.

Suddenly she had lost him, no matter what she did or said.

Like trapped in a nightmare, she stood watching him from a distance for a long time, holding back her feelings to think of some way to help him. She didn't know how to bear the utter misery of having him so close yet feeling like he was in another separate reality, where it was impossible to reach the cheerful and kind man he had been. 

Helplessly, with unshed tears clouding her eyes, she realised that her mind had tried to resort to sleep to find some peace, waking up in alarm after dozing off. Solaire was no longer there.

Chapter Text

Grian roamed Lost Izalith. All she knew was that she had to find Solaire, because he obviously wasn't in his right mind. The problem was that Grian was increasingly sure he didn't want to be found. However, even if she had to give him some space to be comfortable, she would still try to help him by any means possible. It was the least she could do when he had never given up on her and was the reason she kept fighting.

She searched every corner, ignoring the horrors around her, but instead of finding him, she found Siegmeyer. She immediately recognised his armour and ran towards him, noting that he was on the edge of a collapsed area. Below was a festering pool filled with hideous creatures.

"Hmm! Oh-hoh! Excuse me. I was so absorbed in thought that I just drifted away. It must be the warmth. Well, what's on your mind? No, don't tell me. Are those monsters making life difficult for you? You need not be ashamed. We are in the same boat… You know, I really have run up quite a debt to you. Perhaps the time has come…"

Grian cut him off abruptly.

"No! No, listen, I'm looking for..."

"Friend, I have an idea. A good one, really. I will ruse those dire fiends, and you can slip away in the confusion. Please, friend, I owe you much more than this. And now, I go! Don't be slow! Hrgrraaaaggh! C'mon! Over here, you fiends! Perish, foul creatures! I am Siegmeyer of Catarina, and you shall feel my wrath," Set in his thoughts of adventures and utter recklessness, Siegmeyer ignored her and jumped down, despite Grian's scream of horror, straight into the toothy, conical mouths of the beasts below.

Not knowing what else to do, Grian dove with him to a place where she had absolutely no need to go, wasting her time. But she couldn't leave Siegmeyer to face this alone, totally lost in his crazy endeavours. The knight of Catarina seemed to be enjoying himself terribly, and Grian could fully understand Sieglinde's frustration at her father's unnecessary actions. She was forced to fight savagely to avoid dying among the mass of tentacled creatures with her feet stuck in the mud while helping Siegmeyer. By the time they finished with the last creatures, she was utterly exhausted and had to lean against a wall while she caught her breath.

"Well, you saved me, once again... Thank goodness... I'm exhausted... I think I'll have a rest," Siegmeyer said, apparently meeting the lack of energy of age head-on.

"You can't fall asleep here," Grian gasped, horrified.

"Don't you worry; the ground below me is my pillow. I'll recover shortly..."

And indeed, he fell asleep right then and there.

Cursing, Grian tried to lift him to no avail and stalked off, growling under her breath. Ultimately, the rush and anxiety of having to search for Solaire won out, deciding she couldn't be a babysitter to a grown man who wanted to kill himself in stupid ways.

"Thanks for wasting my time," she growled, scowling, a growing sullenness bubbling up in her chest as everything around her started spiralling out of control.

And so she went on until she fell down a ruinous slope, meeting with an aberration as soon as she got up. It looked like a creature made of branches and fire, gigantic, giving off unbearable heat. It was magically tied up, and as soon as she found and destroyed its chains, the aberration started tearing up the entire room, absolutely enraged. She saw her opportunity to finish it off when she saw that it had exposed a vulnerable area that seemed to go within the branches and roots of its body. Grian jumped, narrowly avoiding falling into the void. She cut her way with her sword until something screamed, staring in horror at an amorphous thing writhing in its own blood and realising that the creature had stopped moving. The arm-like protrusions had fallen heavily, and there was no longer fire periodically flooding the room as it tried to kill her.

She stared at the dead bug before her, confused, as she absorbed its powerful Soul. Was this pitiful creature what was left of the legendary Witch of Izalith? She hoped that if so, she would have fulfilled Quelana's wish to bring peace to what was left of her family.

With all the Lord Souls, she should be heading back to Firelink Shrine to figure out what to do with them, but she wasn't going to move from the burning ruins until she found Solaire.

Grian wandered through the reign of fire and rock, looking at every corner, facing every aberration, and seeing no trace of the knight. Finally, she put a signal in various areas, but she was summoned by a couple of strangers, and she stopped trying, frustrated, distressed and feeling that every second was playing against her. She could almost feel Lordran as an entity laughing at her as it pulled the strings to keep her from getting what she wanted. But it had to know that all the desperation in the world wouldn't stop her from her goal, because Lordran finally seemed to stop playing with her and gave her what she wanted, if only to harm her in another way.

Past an aberrant titanite demon, into the deathly silence of a forgotten corridor, Grian stepped into an ominous darkness. And in that darkness, she walked, arming herself with determination. Nightmares were familiar and incessant for her, but this one turned out to be so real that she knew she was lost even before she plunged into it, listening only to the slight creaking of insect legs and the echo of her footsteps like a pendulum swinging slowly and inexorably over her head.

She stopped and looked down, seeing several of the nasty insects skitter past her feet, squawking and hopping like bloated grasshoppers, and looked up again to see what they were running from. She made out a flickering light approaching from the end of the hallway, growing brighter in the darkness, illuminating the entire place with strange shadows. Confused, Grian recognised the sound of footsteps and the clink of chainmail, wide-eyed as the nightmare burst open with a roar filled with rage and pain as a figure lunged directly against her.

Taken by surprise, Grian took several steps back, knocked out by a massive shield with a painted sun on it. She felt a sharp blow to her shoulder from something that impacted and ricocheted off her pauldron, so strong that it would've been able to cut through her like butter had she not been protected by metal. Instinctively she backed away, stumbling over a root and clinging desperately to her weapons. Her head spun, and her ears rang from the blow to her head from falling despite wearing her helmet. She saw something sputtering in the dark and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the lightning spear and scrambling to her feet, backing up even further and trying to get some distance.

She heard his sounds of ecstatic pain before she heard his voice.

"Finally, I have found it! I have...!" Solaire's voice filled the tunnel with despair and faint delight, and moments later, she saw him charge at her again with invariably hostile intent.

Grian had a moment to see that he was wearing something glowing on his head, with no trace of his helmet. She didn't know exactly what it was at first, but to her utter dismay, she saw legs moving to the sides of the thing. However, she had to stop staring to cover from a devastating slash from Solaire's straight sword, feeling his unleashed strength and genuine will to do damage for the first time. That attack was followed by many more, but she never returned them.

"Solaire, stop!" she roared desperately, pushing him aside momentarily with a shield bash before he resumed his rampant assault.

"My very own sun...! I am the sun!" he yelled in wonder, finally breaking through her defences and cutting her thigh.

Grian grunted in pain, ignoring it and focusing on keeping her balance. Again, she had a brief moment to look at him as he approached, being further from the beginning of the corridor, with more light available, so she finally saw one of those insects clinging to Solaire's head. This one, in particular, had a shiny appendage on top. 

Even a couple of steps away, she could see that Solaire's eyes were completely white and clouded, his blonde hair was loose, and blood was running in several rivulets down the sides of his face. That, plus his angry, clenched-jawed expression with a faint smile, gave him a totally deranged appearance. He had clearly lost his mind, but Grian realised with a sliver of hope that he wasn't Hollow.

"What have you done?" she cried, so utterly furious and devastated that she couldn't stifle a tormented sound.

"Yes, I did it... I did..." Solaire's ecstatic voice broke into an agonising howl of pain, shaking his head from side to side as if trying to shake off the ache the bug was causing him, blindly attacking Grian yet again.

"You did nothing but hurt yourself, you idiot!" Grian barked, fending off his attacks and looking for a way to reach his head. All she could try to do was get that thing off his head, and he wasn't about to let her do that. So she fought like never before, hell-bent on killing the creature attached to his head.

However, Solaire was fighting without holding back despite the pain, and he had the advantage of not having to gauge his strength and avoid critical hits. After a time of skirmishing, Grian saw her chance, lowering her shield and trying to stab at the top of the bug, making sure she didn't damage Solaire's head. Unfortunately, he was faster, and before she could manage to do it, something cold sliced between her shoulder and chest, between pieces of armour.

Grian froze, feeling her shield fall from her hand as soon as the tendon was severed, parrying Solaire's next slash with her other hand, stricken by the sudden shock of pain as she realised what had happened. She stared wide-eyed at Solaire, seeing the same deranged gesture without remorse or recognition as he drew his sword and plunged it again into her exposed leg, piercing the artery and making her fall to her knees. Then, almost lazily, he kicked her in the cuirass, sending her backwards into the ground, and stabbed her once again between the helmet and her chest, piercing her neck. While she choked on her own blood, he looked down at her with an absent expression and turned around, retreating back into the darkness of the corridor, muttering and clutching his head, torn between pain and satisfaction at the light shining in his head.

Quickly bleeding to death, Grian didn't have time to reach for the Estus before the cold, familiar jaws of death swallowed her up.

Solaire had killed her.

Grian kept thinking about that and how terribly irrelevant it was at that moment. He could kill her as many times as he wanted, but she would come back and remove that disgusting bug from his head if it was the last thing she did. She just headed back to that corridor, clinging to the fact that Solaire wasn't aware that he would never hurt her under normal circumstances.

She went back for him, but this time she was extremely careful when entering the corridor. She had to pray that their worlds didn't get separated; otherwise, she would be forced to find some way to anchor them that didn't require a voluntary summoning. Silent as a mouse, Grian saw his helmet shining in the distance, approaching as stealthily as possible, stopping if she saw the light moving. She finally caught up with Solaire, waiting for him to turn his back on her before jumping on him, knocking him off balance and making him fall face-first to the ground with a furious thump. He immediately started to squirm to get her off of him, but Grian kept her legs to the sides of his body, pushing down and grabbing the insect on his head, pulling hard. She soon realised, however, that this would be more difficult than she thought, for the creature was firmly anchored, and Solaire managed to get to his knees, elbowing her and howling in pain. There was no choice but to keep pulling, even if it hurt him, because she wouldn't keep him pinned on the spot for much longer, and Solaire wouldn't give up anyway. She finally resorted to punching the creature, listening with satisfaction as it screeched, and as soon as she stunned it and it loosened its grip, she pulled again with all her might, taking it out and falling backwards next to Solaire.

Without wasting a second, Grian turned and clumsily drew her sword from her back, grabbing it by the blade and jabbing it into the bug. At last, the light went out, and she breathed in relief, thankful that Solaire hadn't jumped on her yet.

Getting up, she saw it was just because he couldn't. Solaire had only managed to turn around and was convulsing on the ground. She hurriedly crouched beside him, startled to see the stiffness in his limbs and the spasms wracking him, his cloudy eyes staring at the ceiling, and his bloodied face. She tried to hold his head, but as soon as the seizures stopped, he started writhing, screaming in such a way that she made an anguished sound, her heart breaking to see him like that. He shakily raised his hands to his head, to the holes where the insect's legs had pierced him.

She reached for her flask of Estus, raising it to his mouth, but he slapped it away, howling and thrashing. It was incredibly difficult to keep him still, so that wasn't an option. She had to settle for holding him and trying to keep him from hurting himself.

"Where is it? My sun… What have you done?" he growled, fixing his white-eyed gaze on her and filling his face with loathing and anger she never imagined him capable of. "You… I hate you," he spat through his teeth, startling Grian when he raised his voice. "I HATE YOU! DAMN YOU!"

Grian cringed, trembling, and closed her eyes as if she had received a physical blow, silently letting the tears fall inside her helmet.

"Hate me all you want, but I wasn't going to leave you like this," she muttered, looking away, unable to bear that boundless rage towards her, that expression of utter betrayal and real animosity.

"You have ruined everything," Solaire growled, his voice losing strength, his face growing paler, losing the strength even to hate. His gaze went foggy and unfocused, and his limbs lost any remaining stiffness. "It's over... My sun is setting... It's dark, so dark..."

He closed his eyes, exhaling heavily, and his head fell to one side. Then, his entire body went still and finally collapsed. Panicking, Grian rearranged herself, pressing her hands to his cheeks, smearing the blood and shaking him slightly, trying to lift him onto her lap to frantically search for any sign of life. If he died, he wouldn't rise again in any bonfire, and she wouldn't let that happen.

Overwhelmed, she removed her helmet and sucked in a breath as if she was dying too.

"No, no, no... Don't go, don't leave me here alone. Open your eyes... Wake up, come on... Please!" she begged, choking on her own sobs as she shakily called up the pyromancy flame and began angrily commanding it to heal him, glowing warmly in the darkness. The flame obeyed, trying to spread its heat as much as she allowed it. Sensing that she was about pass out, Grian ignored the discomfort, growling defiantly and forcing the pyromancy. "Come on... Come on!"

Stopping on the brink of falling uselessly unconscious for the fifth time, Grian withdrew the pyromancy, opening her eyes and weakly pulling off her gauntlet. She then searched Solaire's neck for a pulse, letting out a cry of unbridled relief when she found it, albeit incredibly weak and slow.

Seeking any remaining strength within her, even in the face of the absurd task of carrying Solaire from this place to the surface by herself, Grian got ready to do it. She left him first on the ground, taking her things and finding Solaire's helmet lying on the ground. She picked it up carefully, holding it to her side, and raised her sword as she heard hurried footsteps down the corridor. She immediately stepped between Solaire's unconscious body and whoever was closing in, ready to fight to her last breath to stop any threat.

Grian saw someone in a long robe, steadily pointing her sword at the stranger, who gestured peaceably, raising his hands.

"I'm a friend, remember? I know Solaire. I am a Warrior of Sunlight as well," he said, pointing to the body lying behind her. "What happened to him? I was worried, so I spread the word that something was up, but no one knew where he had gone. Is he still alive?"

Grian swallowed hard. She had to be rational and think that many people knew him and this could be possible.

"Barely," she answered with a raw tone, still not moving.

An alarmed expression crossed the sorcerer's face, who assessed the situation momentarily before lowering his hands.

"I'll be back with more help. Do you know of someone who knows how to handle powerful miracles? We're going to need a good healer," he pointed out.

We?, Grian thought, who had still not even given that man the benefit of the doubt. However, she nodded. She could bring him to Anastacia, and Reah could help as well.

Without further ado, the sorcerer turned back and walked away, leaving her alone again. Seeing that he wasn't coming back just yet, Grian tentatively put the sword down and sat down next to Solaire, carefully taking his head and settling it back on her lap. He was terribly pale, weak and frail looking, with blood and cold sweat running down his face and hair, but it seemed that she had managed to stop the bleeding from the holes in his head through pyromancy.

With a shaky breath, Grian grabbed a piece of cloth from one of her satchels and carefully wiped his face. There wasn't much else she could do for him at the moment. When she finished, she realised that at least he had a serene expression, far from the pain he must have endured and free from the madness. She couldn't help but lean into him, doubled over with worry, gently kissing his cheek over and over again. He was so cold. How could such a blazing spirit be so awfully cold?

"I'm going to get you out of here. Don't you even think about giving up... Don't give up," she whispered in a small voice.

She desperately decided to pick him up and carry him on her own, because she didn't want to waste any more time waiting for anyone when he was in such a frail state. But then the corridor filled with light, dazzling and surprising her. At first, she didn't know what was happening, so she held Solaire protectively against her and looked around in alarm, going very still as she recognised that they were summoning signs. Dozens of them, some white and others golden.

Tears of confusion and surprise gleamed in her eyes, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to summon the ones closest to her. Where did so many people come from?

First came a knight in assorted armour pieces, huge, bowing and silently watching them, crouching down to inspect Solaire. Later, a warrior, and then another knight. Finally, a pyromancer arrived, and among them, they let her know they would carry Solaire. There were still a surprising amount of signs, but Grian didn't think it was wise to bring more people if she wanted to keep the world stable. Knowing that friendly phantoms could not harm the host or allies, she let them take Solaire. She resigned herself to putting her helmet back on and carrying Solaire's great helm and weapons, knowing she was too weak to do anything else.

It was a silent march from Lost Izalith to the upper swamps and from there to the valley that led to Firelink Shrine. The pyromancer occasionally used the flame to relieve the others' fatigue in ways unknown to Grian, and the warriors and knights took turns carrying Solaire between the two. They carried him with tremendous care, and when they finally reached Firelink and laid him out on the grass, finally seeing his haggard appearance under the sun, she could see their sincere concern. She hadn't been fully aware of how deeply Solaire was loved until dozens of people appeared out of nowhere to help him without hesitation, seeing their genuine worry and suffering. Somehow she felt accompanied in her unfathomable pain, in her terror that this was the end, and she was grateful when one of the phantoms placed a friendly hand on her shoulder before disappearing.

Without wasting a second, Grian ran down the stairs toward Anastacia, not ashamed to admit that she dropped to her knees and begged her to come out and help him. Anastacia hesitated only an instant before getting to her feet, prying open one of the bars from the inside with a sharp jerk and following her up the stairs. Then, Grian looked around every corner of the Shrine until she found Reah next to Petrus, ignoring the cleric and pleading in the same way, although Reah asked her not to, immediately going with her.

Grian silently watched as the two women worked silently, running their glowing hands over Solaire's motionless body. She just paced around the bonfire to keep herself from bothering them, looking at the brilliance of miracles and internally asking whatever supreme force might be left to save him.

"He is too weak. He lost a tremendous amount of energy. It would take many souls to regenerate him," Reah ruefully said.

"I'll give him everything I have," Grian immediately said, kneeling down to start giving her souls to him.

Anastacia raised a hand to stop her.

"Most of what you have is already part of you. It would take a final death to give it to him, and I doubt that's what he would have wanted," she told her, kindly but firmly.

"I don't care, I'm not going to stay here and do nothing while…" she began to roar, ready to do it no matter what they said, when an idea broke through the desperation. There were souls powerful enough to save him, souls she hadn't carried for long and weren't part of herself. "Wait."

She ran towards Frampt's hole used, silently thanking that he wasn't there and launching herself straight into the void. Thanks to a spell that seemed to affect gravity, she had already figured out that she could go up and down without the horrible serpent being there. Hence, as she landed softly at the bottom, she ran to the Lordvessel and unceremoniously extracted the Souls already resting there. She ignored the unpleasant heat and the urge to give them back to the magic vessel, feeling dizzy from carrying them all at once but forcing herself to go back up.

Back on top of the Firelink Shrine, she stopped when she heard a horrible roar. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing Frampt appearing and trying o grab her with a resounding bite. Grian dodged, falling to the ground and struggling to her feet.

"Traitor! Thief! I knew you were too weak! Aaaarrgg!” he angrily hissed.

Grian snarled back at him and ran towards the bonfire, falling to her knees between Reah and Anastacia. They both stared at her in surprise as she began pulling out primal Souls and forced them onto Solaire's chest, one after the other. She wasn't sure if a human could assimilate them because she hadn't been able to, but their power had to be more than enough to restore his strength just by being its carrier.

She saw no noticeable change in him, but Anastacia and Reah continued to work their miracles, and she stood there, watching every moment. They went on with it for what seemed like an eternity until they finally stopped, exhausted.

"We have done what we can for now," Reah said, looking over at Anastacia. "He seems stable enough. His body is healing, and he will recover, but I don't know when he will wake up or in what mental state. I will check on him from time to time. I will go get water."

Anastacia nodded, looking sympathetically at Grian.

"I am going back down."

"Thank you… thank you both," Grian wearily said, taking off her helmet and sitting beside Solaire, physically and mentally spent.

He had regained some colour and was no longer cold. Yet she was terrified that she could do nothing to save his mind. There was no way of knowing if Solaire wasn't himself anymore, regardless of whether he was physically okay or not. All she knew was that she couldn't kill him, so unless he was invariably dangerous and she was forced to do it, that wasn't a possibility. If he woke up and wasn't the jolly man he'd been before losing himself in his obsession, she would mourn the death of the man she had known for the rest of her existence, dealing with his hatred. However, she was still desperately clinging to the possibility that he would be the same again. That hadn't done her any good even before he hit rock bottom, but she desperately prayed for it.

Reah returned with a small pitcher filled with water and several clean cloths. Grian told her she would take care of it, thanking her again. So she got to work with the wet cloths, properly cleaning Solaire's face and hair of blood and dirt with care and tenderness. She kept hoping and wishing that his eyes would open, to see them blue and warm once again, but that didn't happen. He remained unconscious the entire time, even when she bandaged his head to ensure the wounds caused by the insect wouldn't reopen.

Finishing, she pulled out her blanket and covered him, letting his head rest on a soft patch of grass and lying beside him, watching each time his chest rose and fell with every breath.

Grian's only concern was the foolish man obsessed with the sun lying by her side. Everything else had ceased to exist in the dying world.

Chapter Text

Taking a deep breath, Grian let her imagination wander, her gaze fixed upon the sky. With the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the tree leaves, she imagined herself in a deep forest, finding solace in the grey and pinkish clouds behind the tree, edged by the golden sunset. She had often thought it frustrating to be stuck at that time of day, but it could have been worse. There was a comforting, familiar serenity about how it lingered between the night's dark tranquillity and the day's bright liveliness. It was a moment of contemplation, beauty, and deep melancholy. She would never forget sunsets, and their bittersweet sensation of a foreshadowed ending, while still holding a memory of the beginning of the day.

But despite the suspension in time preying on Lordran, Grian could almost feel the apparently eternal sundown leaning ever closer to twilight, almost imperceptibly. However, she didn't give it much credit, telling herself that it had remained the same way for centuries and time had already lost meaning.

She turned her head, feeling the green grass caressing her cheek, and looked at Solaire's unconscious figure. Like every time before, nothing had changed, but just like the sunset, she foolishly hoped it would. He was still immersed in a profound slumber, and she was still waiting.

She settled on her side and intently looked at him.

At least he wasn't deathly pale anymore, and the wounds on his temples were mostly healed thanks to the accelerated healing from pyromancy and miracles, plus the proximity of the bonfire. His hair was loose, but Grian had carefully combed it with her fingers so that it wasn't on his face, appreciating its softness. He was an undeniably beautiful man, both inside and out, and she could perfectly understand why he had earned so many people's attention and admiration.

"If you only knew how many people are willing to move heaven and earth to help you," Grian said in a whisper, resting her head on one hand. She had long waited for him to wake up, though she couldn't tell exactly how long. She hadn't stopped talking to him, partly thinking that maybe he could hear her, even if it was through a dream, and partly trying to distract herself from worry and anxiety. "I'm sure they would've been willing to do anything, just like me. You have touched so many lives, helped so many people, and taught us the value of kindness with such brilliance that you have given us back the pride of being human. Instead of looking at us as decadent beings, you helped us stay strong to make the world better, to overcome any obstacle. I wish you'd known you are our sun," she said, sighing and looking down at his chest, gently moving up and down. "I hope there is no darkness in your dreams."

His fear-filled words, the things he'd said while on the verge of death, resonated in her nightmares. Grian would never forget how his countenance turned from hate to fear of the dark, like a child locked up alone in a pitch-black room.

Even if she wasn't sure if he would've appreciated it anymore, Grian stood close to him and gently caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers, occasionally stroking his hair as well. She smiled at his slight frown as she brushed the bridge of his nose with a finger, appreciating those small reactions, though they were probably involuntary. At least he wasn't in a state of vegetative unconsciousness so deep as to be impervious to touch. Grian wasn't wearing her armour, and hoped contact would somehow pierce the deep sleep and remind him that he wasn't alone. 

Despite everything, she was still afraid that he would suddenly wake up and jerk away from her, swearing his eternal hatred. Suffering Solaire's hatred seemed like the most miserable fate, something she had believed impossible. She would never have expected to hear him say anything with real animosity, let alone directed at her, but she hoped that he could return to normal and talk things out at some point. For now, she had to wait for him to wake up before making judgments based on moments of blatant insanity.

Tired, Grian got up off the ground, stretching and deciding to briefly pause her vigil. She hadn't left Solaire's side since they got there, not even when Reah offered to stay with him, but it was imperative after days without moving from the same spot. She needed some time to clear her mind, so she searched for Reah, finally taking her offer and walking away over the cliff leading to the aqueduct. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to stop thinking about him, but she intended to take a short trip through the Burg to the balcony where she first met Solaire. She made it there quickly, finding only a few Hollows along the way. She hadn't even bothered to put on her armour or take her shield with her; the sword was enough for those enemies at that point.

Sighing deeply and breathing in the clean air, Grian leaned against the stone railing, looking out at the vast expanse of clouds and the sun shining on the sky, over the mists shrouding the woods far below the city. She vividly remembered the first time she'd seen Solaire standing there, coldly dismissing him as a mere madman and a coward. Letting out a bitter laugh, she shook her head at her own foolishness, her heart aching when she remembered that he had asked her recently if she thought he was crazy. Oh, how she missed that cheerful nonchalance of his from before everything turned into a catastrophe, his warm and confident nature.

She stood there for a long time, so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't realise someone was approaching until someone was right at her side. Instinctively her hand went to the hilt of her sword, turning and frowning as she recognised Darelle. Her armour and clothing were in poor condition, and when she took her helmet off, looking at her with open disdain, Grian saw that she wasn't looking much better. She wasn't Hollow, but seemed awfully close.

"Congratulations. You almost got Solaire killed," Darelle bluntly said. She gave her a crooked smile. "That's what you have accomplished with all that nonsense of falsely marrying him. You're not enough to be anyone's purpose, let alone his."

Grian's jaw clenched, feeling a pang of pain despite always being determined to not let that woman get to her. She didn't know how she'd found her or how she knew that, but she always had to show up at the most inopportune times.

"Why don't you get lost in some festering hole around Blighttown and just stay there, rotting for all eternity?" she snapped.

"You would want that, wouldn't you? And to believe your charades seducing a good man are legitimate," Darelle said, looking her up and down and raising an eyebrow. "No matter what you do or say, you are a curse that will lead him to his downfall. Are you so stupid that you can't see you distracted him from his original goal? You left him vulnerable, and he nearly went Hollow. That happens when you lose your goals and get distracted by irrelevant things. The best thing you can do is leave him alone, let him find someone worthy, and walk away from him."

Sinking into those words that preyed on her own fears, Grian lowered her gaze, feeling an insecurity settling in with renewed strength inside her. She didn't have the power to deny anything. Grian didn't even know if she had the right to, because maybe it was true, and she'd been part of the reason behind the disaster, even if it wasn't to the extent of Darelle's accusations and she'd just been too weak to help him when he needed her.

"Certainly not," someone behind Darelle said. Grian looked up, wide-eyed, and Darelle spun around as if suddenly haunted by a ghost. Solaire descended the stairs toward them, his gait weary and heavy despite standing tall. He stopped before Darelle and silently watched her for a few moments until she shifted uncomfortably.

"S-solaire? Oh, I'm so glad to see you! This woman is…"

"It is you who should walk away. You shall never speak to her in such a manner ever again, and you will cease expecting me to give you something that cannot be yours," Solaire said with unwavering firmness, even if Darelle looked on the verge of tears. He hadn't spoken cruelly, but Darelle hadn't imagined he would ever be so blunt, let alone appear out of nowhere to do it in front of Grian.

"Solaire, please," Darelle pleaded, lifting a hand to his chest.

He caught her wrist before she touched him.

"Farewell, Darelle."

The woman jerked free with a twisted expression of shame and anger, taking one last look at Grian before she stalked up the stairs, never to return. Grian immediately turned her attention to Solaire, who seemed to lose all the strength and determination he had mustered and staggered. She immediately ran to his side. 

She didn't even understand how this was happening, confused and distressed, with her brain desperately trying to make sense of the situation.

"Solaire? What are you doing here?" she chokingly asked, grabbing his arms and ensuring he didn't fall, listening to his heavy breathing inside the great helm.

"I wasn't hearing your voice in the dark anymore. I woke up and had to go looking for you," he said, his voice tired.

"I'm sorry, I wanted to… to clear my mind. I left Reah with you," Grian numbly said, unable to process the situation. "Are you… really yourself?"

Nodding slightly and ruffling the feather on the top of the helmet with the movement, Solaire let out a faint sound of utter misery, keeping his eyes on the ground.

"I am so sorry for that detestable nightmare I've put you through, the things I said…" he breathlessly said, gasping in surprise when Grian cut off his words and hugged him tightly. She didn't know what else to do, crumbling before the fact that he seemed to be free of that horrible madness. She clung to him desperately, breaking into strangled sobs before she could stop herself. "Oh, Grian, I… I am so sorry. I don't deserve your sorrow, please. Don't cry, dear," he whispered, gently caressing her back and holding her despite his weakness. He was so immeasurably warm and welcoming again that Grian only wanted to enjoy it as long as possible.

After a few seconds, without wanting to let him see her puffy eyes, she pressed her face against his chest, feeling lucky for the first time in a long time. 

"Come, let's sit down. You shouldn't be exerting yourself," Grian admonished him, releasing him and sitting against the parapet on the balcony, wiping her eyes. Solaire obeyed and dropped down beside her. She realised he wasn't carrying his shield, only his sword, and he removed his great helm as if he'd been suffocating inside. She could see his face plagued by fatigue, his loose hair swept back, and his blue eyes looking at her regretfully. When he leaned against the stone behind, she saw the scars on his head. Knowing that he wasn't in a position to blurt out everything he wanted to say, Grian gave him a soft smile and shook her head before he started. "No, not now. Just rest."

She didn't seek any contact with him, still bearing in mind his previous rejection in Lost Izalith and not wanting to expose herself to the same sense of desolation. He didn't either, closing his eyes and remaining silent. They rested under the shimmering sun in silence, trying to ignore the space between them.

When she opened her eyes again, stretching, Grian feared that what had happened with Solaire had been part of her desperate imagination until she saw him leaning on the stone railing at the end of the balcony, observing the landscape. However, that triggered a cold panic in her stomach, and she immediately got up and ran to his side.

Solaire glanced at her sideways, apparently noticing her alarmed expression immediately.

"It's alright," he said, his eyes filled with something bitter as soon as he took them away from her. "I am not worthy of your concern after my execrable conduct. I am a despicable fool."

"You are a fool, but I know you weren't yourself," Grian replied, leaning against the railing and taking a deep breath.

Jaw tightening, Solaire shook his head.

"I said dreadful things. I attacked you, I… I killed you. I remember killing you and not feeling anything. Now it's seared into my memory, and I can't think of anything else. I feel all the pain I should have felt then, all the disgust…" he hastily said, looking down at his hands with a horrified expression, trembling as if they were full of blood.

"Hey, I'm here," Grian said, interrupting his thoughts. "And I forgive you. I forgave you when I realised that you weren't in your right mind."

Solaire frowned at her, not understanding his immediate absolution.

"Why…? You shouldn't be forgiving me."

"Would you do it again now?" Grian casually asked.

"No!" Solaire immediately answered, horrified.

"Would you have done it before you went crazy and had a bug sucking at your skull?"

"No, of course I would not…"

"No, you would not. You're too good to do anything like that. I know you," Grian replied, laughing softly at Solaire's frustrated face. "Annoying, isn't it? Yeah. I know what it's like to expect someone to judge you and be incapable of it. It's irritating, but you'll have to deal with it. I only care that you're safe here with me again. It's the only thing that matters in this world."

Sighing heavily, Solaire strangely looked at her, with many indistinguishable feelings faintly going through his face. He seemed to harbour a growing desperation despite her attempts to let him know she didn't hold a grudge for what had happened. He took several steps away from the stone railing, still looking at her, and Grian regarded him with confusion and some curiosity.

"I cannot ignore it any longer. I am afraid it will drive me to madness again if I do," Solaire suddenly said, breathing heavily. Seeing the fear in his eyes and scared to see him acting erratically once again, Grian approached him despite his alarmed expression and stopped when they were barely a foot away.

"What are you talking about? You're scaring me," Grian said, not caring about how fearfully she sounded, searching his eyes for an answer, for something that would say he wasn't getting worse again.

Solaire blew out a breath, shaking his head and tentatively raising a hand to her face. He hesitated momentarily before longingly cupping her cheek and intently holding her petrified look. Grian closed her eyes, surrendering to his touch and wishing for it to never end, her mind suddenly empty of everything but growing confusion and yearning.

"Forgive me," Solaire said, his tone full of repentance and something maddeningly smouldering as he got closer. "Please, I beg you, end my misguided hopes, for a burning devotion for you consumes my every thought. I may be a fool to revere so fervently, but I know no other way. I love you desperately, and I am lost, at your mercy. I was too much of a coward to stop it. Tell me that my hopes are nothing but folly, that you could never feel about me the same way I feel about you, and I shall never trouble you with it again."

Grian looked at him in confusion, with something blazing in her chest and the feeling that she was in some strange dream. But Solaire was still there and seemed genuine, watching her and waiting with that expression turning from heat to doubt and fear, knowing there was no turning back. She couldn't believe it was happening, that she had been so blind and fearfully hid her feelings, considering them utterly impossible, while he did the same. It almost seemed like a joke, a strange situation from a wishful dream. But, even if it was, she wanted to take it.

Solaire withdrew, releasing her and probably taking her silence as the start of the rejection he expected, but Grian grabbed a fistful of his surcoat and pulled him in, kissing him and feeling her heart about to explode inside her chest. She barely pressed her lips against his, briefly but gently, almost like a caress, withdrawing almost immediately. Then, she looked at him with an expression as surprised as his at having done that. Even so, his lips' soft and warm touch seemed to be permanently etched into hers, fueling a desperate need for everything this unusual dream could offer her.

"I'm sorry," Grian muttered at last, reaching up and gently stroking his cheek and jawline dusted with blonde stubble.

"A-are you?" Solaire asked, still dazed as she leaned gently against him. He instinctively put his arms around her, and she didn't know how, but they were closer, breathing the same air, their noses touching.

"Yes," Grian could barely speak. It was as if her breath had been stolen, brushing her parted lips against his with each word and feeling Solaire's hand on the side of her face. "I can't end your hopes when they are the same as mine."

She gasped when Solaire finally caught her lips with his, kissing her fiercely, with all the passion he'd been holding back. She forgot all that existed in the world at the delirious sensation and burning taste, desperately kissing him back and surrendering to his fervent need. He wasn't lying about the extent of his devotion, and she quickly discovered hers herself, deepening the kiss between hurried gasps, moaning into his mouth until he pulled away. Despite being out of breath, she was about to protest until she felt his mouth again at the corner of her lips, trailing down her jaw to her neck. He held back at first, and his kisses were soft, revelling in the fragrance of her skin, until he began to devour more passionately when he got under her ear. Then, when she rubbed her legs against his, he picked her up, firmly grabbing her lower thighs, turning around and putting her back against the upper stone parapet. Wrapping her legs around his hips, Grian tangled her fingers in his hair and gripped it until she felt his tongue on her skin. Unable to hold back, she threw her head back and involuntarily made a shamelessly needy sound, releasing one hand from his hair and covering her mouth in horror.

Solaire pulled away, watching her curiously despite his fiery gaze, noticing her flushed cheeks, wide eyes, ragged breaths and smirking.

"Oh-hoh… Sorry. I got carried away," he said in a low, husky tone that made something burn from Grian's stomach all the way to her hips, and she forgot how to speak for a few pathetic seconds.

"No, no, that’s alright… I want you to get carried away," Grian immediately replied, unable to help but laugh abashedly as Solaire chuckled at her accommodating tone. She felt something warm at his smile, indescribably elated to see that hot-blooded look on his face while affectionately locking eyes with her.

He put her back on the ground, leaned down and rested his forehead against hers, and Grian placed her hands on the sides of his face.

"I cannot believe living such a blessing after that nightmare," he said.

"It could have been before, but you weren't the only one scared to talk," Grian admitted, hugging him and melting into the safety of his arms. "How long have you felt like this?"

"Much longer than I should admit. I have always thought that you were delightfully beautiful, and I must say that I was charmed by your fiery spirit from the beginning," he said with a smile reflecting in his voice.

Grian was glad he couldn't see her, for she immediately reddened despite herself, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I'm just telling the truth. I am quite terrible at lying, so I wouldn't even try."

With a relaxed sound, Grian closed her eyes and relished in silence when she felt him caress her head, running his fingers through her short hair. She felt stupid at the possibility that she could have lost Solaire without having known that or enjoying an affection that she had thought impossible and felt unworthy of. But still, she saw in Solaire's reluctance to believe his situation her own reflection and gained confidence that they had been viewing the world through the same fragile glass of insecurity. In her fear of not speaking so as not to lose him, she had been on the verge of losing him forever due to other circumstances, and she had seen, thanks to him, the absurdity of silence.

"What do we do now?" Grian asked, suddenly feeling a different fear, the fear that reality wouldn't stop for a moment and destroy everything again.

Solaire's chest puffed out in a heavy breath.

"We should probably head back to Firelink Shrine. I left in quite a hurry, and that agreeable lady you left watching over me may be wondering what happened."

"Reah," Grian said, sighing heavily. She didn't feel like returning to a place with more people, but he was right. She broke away from him and nodded, feeling her heart skip a beat as she saw his face and warm expression. "Yes, we should probably go."

Solaire nodded and picked up his great helm, putting it on and walking beside her. Grian hoped to not get separated throughout the journey back, however short, trying to concentrate on staying alert to avoid being ambushed as they walked through the streets of the Burg. Meanwhile, she searched for a way to express what was devouring her insides, finally deciding to say it.

"Solaire, I need to ask you something. Are you going to… keep looking for your sun?" As soon as she asked the question, trying to contain her feelings, Solaire stopped, turning to her and looking fondly at her through the eye-slits in the helmet. He put his hands on her shoulders so that she would look at him.

"I don't need to look for anything. I have everything I could possibly need," he said with vehement assurance, stroking her chin and smiling inside the helmet with a scorching light shining in his eyes. "Fear not, for I will be by your side for as long as possible."

Unable to help herself, Grian smiled too, trusting him and his decision, especially if it meant staying with her. She nodded and took his hand as they started walking again, holding onto his arm. Now she wondered if there was truth in Darelle's words, and she had contributed to distracting Solaire, driving him to the brink of madness, but she kept it to herself, figuring that without a sun to chase, things could have changed anyways. Now he seemed to be okay, carrying the old Souls, and she just needed to be with him and think of a way to solve her problem with the two serpents.

They reached the Sanctuary and found Reah quite agitated, relieved when she saw them appear. They both apologised for being late, and by the time they finished talking to her, the woman was looking at them with a warm smile, evidently noticing the gestures and glances between them. Alone again, they sat in a secluded area of the ruins when Solaire began to feel tired again, still reeling from what had happened.

"Come on, sit there," Grian ordered, crossing her arms and nodding at the grassy steps near a wall.

"I am not that tired," he protested, until she began to push him down with a frown. "Alright, alright, as you command."

He sat heavily, taking his great helm off and making an annoyed gesture, moving his shoulders and neck. Grian frowned, watching him intently, sitting next to him.

"Does something hurt?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing of importance. I am fine, darling. I seem to have this bothersome pain in my neck ever since I woke up, but it's nothing serious," he said, running a hand over his neck and squeezing it as if his muscles were strained and he wanted to ease the tension.

At first, Grian thought it could be anything after the traumatic episode, even accumulated stress, until she remembered the brutal way she had pulled the bug from his head. At the time, it had been strictly necessary and the least of her problems to worry if she was hurting him by saving his life, but looking back, she felt horrible about it. Miracles, pyromancy and the proximity to the bonfire should have lessened or eliminated the pain, but she supposed they couldn't magically remove the remaining tension and pinched nerves.

"I can help you, if you want," she offered, pointing to the furry pauldrons and trying to appear more confident than she felt under the knight's scrutiny. "We have nothing else to do right now."

"May I know how?" Solaire inquired curiously, taking the pauldrons off.

"You'll see," she said, gesturing for him to move to give her room to sit behind him. When she did, she looked up at him and placed her hands on the sides of his neck, noticing how he momentary flinched, smiling but cursing as she realised she barely had space to reach the lower part of his neck or shoulders with the rolled surcoat and the chain mail underneath. Still, she tried, trying to fit her fingers without success. "Uhm… I'm sorry. I can't reach with all this."

Solaire made a thoughtful sound, laughing softly.

"Well, I can remove it, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable," he replied, looking over his shoulder at her.

Grian flushed violently.

"You don't have to… I mean, I'm okay with it... Uhm... If you want to... "She cursed inwardly, running a hand over her forehead and trying to concentrate on the situation she had just created by offering to give him a simple massage. "You are the one who would remove the armour and clothes, not me. It is you who may be uncomfortable."

"I won't. It will undoubtedly be worth it for a massage."

Again, Solaire laughed deeply in his usual way but cleared his throat nervously at the end, standing up and looking at her intently, as if expecting some indication of discomfort. Grian schooled her expression and kept it utterly impassive so that he wouldn't misinterpret it while her heart pounded at full speed on her chest. No, she was in no danger of being displeased or shocked but instead of embarrassing herself by showing that she was, in fact, overly appreciative of the situation she had created without even meaning to.

You are shameless..., she scolded herself.

Solaire hesitated only momentarily before reaching for the belt holding the scabbard at his waist and yanking it free. Then he did the same with the other belt that kept the surcoat snug, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he proceeded. Grian remained apparently impassive, not looking away.

Immediately afterwards, he removed his metal bracers and the leather straps on his arms, and then he pulled the surcoat over his head, setting it aside on the floor and gathering up the edges of the hauberk to pull it up over his head as well. Beneath it was a cream-coloured gambeson that he undid with practice, and under it, a simple white tunic fastened with a leather cord at the waist. There was something rousing and unreal about watching the knight get undressed in front of her, glancing at her from time to time in shared silence, and she couldn't deny that she was enjoying it a bit too much.

When he took off his tunic, she swallowed, feeling her mouth go dry and her mind lost at the sight of his naked torso. It wasn't the first time, but this time his muscles were illuminated by the sunset light, they were in a different situation, and she couldn't think of anything else than that glorious body worthy of a statue carved to honour the Gods. He was just as bulky as she remembered, imposing and lovely with his tousled hair after taking the pieces of armour and clothing over his head.

Seeking some sense and focus, even if it was next to impossible, Grian smiled and gestured for him to sit down. She really wanted to start running in circles in a panic, but she held still and kept her cool as he sat with his back to her, one step down on the grassy ruins. Taking a deep breath, she sat cross-legged and began.

She searched through her things for the small bottle of vegetable oil from Catarina that she bought from Andre to keep the weapons in good condition. It smelled nice and would be better than rubbing her dry hands through his skin. She put it in her hands and laid them on his strong shoulders, feeling him tense and slowly soften under her touch. As soon as he relaxed, she started squeezing and massaging his neck and upper back more confidently. Trying to focus on what she was doing and not on the firmness of the muscles under her hands or the warm skin against hers, Grian decided to apply more pressure when she saw that he wasn't entirely releasing all the tension. She smiled as Solaire made an involuntary sound of satisfaction as she massaged an area that must have been particularly bothering him right at the base of his head, trying not to get oil on his hair.

Grian repositioned herself and dropped to her knees to reach better, tending to his entire back and digging her fingers into the muscles. Then she leaned on Solaire's shoulders, resting her head against his, kissing him affectionately behind the ear, revelling in his warmth and sweet scent.

"I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure your neck hurts because of me. That bug was very attached to your head, and I had to pull," she whispered.

"Ah… Yes, well… It's quite alright," he distractedly answered, eyes closed.

"Alright? I almost ripped your head off. That thing wouldn't come out," Grian said, laughing softly and running her hands down his torso, amused at his state of dazed bliss.

Grian massaged his arms, enjoying it while he appreciated the attention. She couldn't stop staring and focusing on the shape of his biceps and forearms or his broad chest and how her hands moved up and down the contours of his muscles, leaning over him. As far as she knew, he was in no pain there, but he seemed to be enjoying it immensely anyway, and so was she.

She hugged him and rested her head on his shoulder, startled when he moved and slipped an arm behind her, catching her easily and pulling her forward, bringing her effortlessly onto his lap and regarding her with quiet adoration as he held her in his arms. Grian put her arms around his neck, watching him the same way and running her fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, no longer caring if it was full of oil or not and assuming he thought the same.

"I've been terribly selfish by loving you," he gravely said.

"We deserve to be selfish," she retorted.

"I want you to be able to enjoy and be happy. I will do whatever it takes to make it so."

"I'm happy and enjoying myself right now," Grian said, frowning slightly as she saw a melancholic expression momentarily cross Solaire's kind eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by soft longing.

He picked her up and brought her to him, kissing her and making her forget everything. It wasn't like before; there wasn't so much urgency, desperation, or suppressed need, and she found herself immeasurably enjoying that slower, more loving, and prolonged contact. It was like a deep caress, a moment of suspended eternity and sincere tenderness. When they finished, they looked at each other in silence, and he caressed her face with the backs of his fingers. Grian kissed the line of his jaw, his cheek, and the corner of his mouth, smiling.

"I am so fortunate to have such a magnificent wife," Solaire said, smiling softly as well.

Grian narrowed her eyes, sighing.

"Don't make fun of me," she said, pinching his arm.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, smirking. "I seem to remember that a cleric in Anor Londo blessed our betrothal. Am I wrong?"

Grian looked at him sceptically, unsure if he was simply joking about their charade or meant something by it. Then, grabbing his shoulder to pull herself up, she sat up, watching him closely through narrowed eyes.

"Why would you bring that farce up now?"

"I will hold onto what you call a farce as if it were a reality, seeing that the one I created brought only pain," Solaire said, his eyes filled with warmth against her bewilderment. "So unless you object to it, I would be honoured to continue to call you my wife, but not strictly when the situation calls for it."

Grian laughed incredulously, shaking her head and feeling an unusual emotion stirring inside her. She didn't know what to make of what was happening or how something she had thought impossible was growing out of nothing on foundations she hadn't even noticed. Perhaps it was his sweet way of letting her know the earnestness of her affections despite the impossibility of the situation.

She rested a hand on his chest, rejoicing in the heat of his skin and the pounding of his heart, knowing that underneath lay a Darksign much like her own, hidden beneath layers of Humanity forced upon the ever-present Curse. It was a silent fact that, at some point, she would have to take back the ancient Souls Solaire carried, when he was strong enough on his own again, and she would have to decide what to do about it. More than ever, she wanted to get a life with him, without misery and Undeath.

"Then I will call you husband and treasure everything I have of you," she agreed, brushing his cheek with her nose.

Solaire made an amused sound.

"Everything in me already belongs to you, my love."

They kissed deeper and more intensely than before, and Grian was carried away by his intoxicating taste, pressing her hand to his chest. He gave in to the pressure, leaning back until he was on the grassy ground, and she followed him, straddling his hips as she let his hands tentatively run up her back, resting them on her backside. Finally, she began to unapologetically bask in what she fervently craved, showing him that his sworn adoration wasn't one-sided, passionately devouring his neck, chest and belly with kisses. Blinded by desire, fuelled by the heavy breathing of the knight beneath her and the way he began to grip her more insistently, making raving sounds of pleasure each time her tongue brushed against his skin, she moved down, grinding her hips against his as she did so, and appreciating how he let out a choked moan. 

Grian kept kissing and licking down his stomach, descending and gripping the edge of his breeches and the mail chausses over them. She tugged at them and noticed Solaire’s already ragged breathing quickening in anticipation and his evident arousal pressing beneath her. He closed his eyes, stiffening and grabbing a fistful of grass by his side on the ground.

She didn't realise they weren't alone until she heard someone clearing their throat somewhere in the reality she was trying to escape from. They were in a relatively secluded part of Firelink Shrine, and she had hoped that even though it was already empty if someone came near, they would have enough brains not to interrupt. However, it seems that this wasn't the case.

Grian turned, glancing over her shoulder and going rigid as she recognised the person there. Solaire was too shaken and confused to react or know what was happening, gasping as she leapt off him, summoning the pyromancy burning furiously into her hands and launching at the bald man like a possessed creature. She roared, shooting two columns of fire at him. Patches took cover behind his massive shield and nimbly backed away.

"Hey, enough of that! I've come to help you," the man yelled indignantly.

"I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" she roared, preparing to throw more fire at him.

"Are you sure? I think you've got a couple of friends in a tight spot," Patches quickly said, chuckling when Grian finally stopped, shaking with anger. "That's it. Listen to poor Patches. That timid sorcerer tried to go in search of his master towards Sen’s Fortress, and your friend Mr. Onion is in a deep, forgotten place with big trees, where no human should be."

"And why are you telling me this?" she hissed through her teeth.

"So you can see that I mean well, I'm just trying to survive. We do whatever we can," he plaintively said.

Tired of the guy's presence, Grian made a dismissive gesture at him, wanting to get him out of the way as soon as possible and see if anything he had just said was true.

"Piss off," she growled, putting out the pyromancy flame.

Patches sighed in relief and turned around, glinting mischievously over Grian's shoulder and smiling, lewdly looking her up and down.

"There is no need for such hostility. Enjoy yourself, huh? That knight sure is a lucky sod!" he said, chuckling and making it clear that he knew full well what he had just done.

Growling in frustration, Grian clenched her fists and wished she had at least strangled him.

"The nerve of that bald prick…"

When she turned around, she saw Solaire, sword in hand, ready to have joined her in a fight if necessary, with his tunic back on. He put the sword back on the ground and caught her in his arms when she went straight for him. Grian buried her face in his chest and cursed bitterly, describing all the ways she wished she’d killed Patches.

"…drag that dickface’s head around the pustules in the Depths, and then burn his ass and feed it to some amorphous slug, and…”

"Feeling better?" Solaire asked, amused, when she stopped the colourful and profuse threats of violence.

"I was better before that bald rat came here interrupting," she said. "And now I have to see if he was lying to me. I hate this place."

"I will go with you," Solaire said, briefly kissing her temple and turning to where his armour was piled on the ground a few steps away, crouching with a heavy sigh, lowering his head and closing his eyes. "Just... allow me a moment to calm down." 

Grian couldn't help but snort despite her anger, knowing he had to feel immeasurably more frustrated after the interruption. Cursing her luck and how bothersome it was to meet people she was going to worry about, as well as the fact that there was no privacy in Lordran, Grian begrudgingly went for her armour as well, allowing Solaire some space.

Chapter Text

Grian looked around every corner of Firelink Shrine, every area of the ruins, and found no sign of Reah. But neither from Petrus. They used to be around the upper area together, which immediately raised her alarms.

She looked with increasing concern at Solaire as they gathered again at the bonfire, pacing from side to side after he said he found no trace of them either.

"Perhaps our worlds have separated," Solaire said, trying to calm her down.

"That's unusual in Firelink," Grian mumbled with a dismissive gesture. "Maybe that damn Patches attacked her again. Perhaps he just wanted to distract me by mentioning other people. We should check the Parish; Reah goes there sometimes."

"Of course. Let's go, then."

They headed for the elevator, but before they stepped inside it, Grian stopped Solaire, grabbing his chainmail-covered arm and meeting his expectant gaze through the gaps in the great helm.

"If there's a fight, leave it to me," she softly asked.

"I'm not going to let you fight alone," he replied, as if the very notion were unthinkable. "I feel better. Don't worry."

"Fine. But I worry anyway," Grian begrudgingly said, turning back to the elevator.

They stood together and readied their shields when they reached the upper area in case any dangers awaited them. And there were, but not for them.

Grian saw Reah on the altar, cowering and bleeding, with Petrus standing above her about to launch a two-handed attack with his morning star. Both she and Solaire prepared to intervene immediately; Solaire summoned a lightning spear and threw it at the cleric, and Grian ran towards him, covering herself with the shield. Petrus fell to the side, jolted by the electricity, and Grian jumped on him, impaling his chest without waiting for any explanation, seeing his face flushed with hate. Hate turned to pain, gasping for air, and finally, he writhed in his last death throes.

When she turned around, Solaire was already by Reah, and she could see that the woman was bleeding from a spot on her belly. She approached and immediately summoned the pyromancy flame, seeing that, luckily, the wound seemed to have been created by a quick blow through the clothing and wasn't very deep.

"Thank you. Again you appear in my time of need when those at my side turn against me," Reah breathlessly said, grasping Solaire's hand and biting back a sound of pain as the wound began to close with the heat of pyromancy.

"I am the one who owes you a debt for working tirelessly to save him," Grian replied, nodding in Solaire's direction and trying to concentrate so as not to pass out using too much energy. "What happened to Petrus? Was he Hollow?"

Going pale, Reah shook her head.

"He was fully aware of what he was doing, I'm afraid. I do not know what made him go so far as to want to kill me, but I have always sensed a strange shadow in him that I blamed on my imagination," she bitterly explained.

"You're safe now," Solaire said in a soothing tone.

"We should escort her to the Sanctuary," Grian said, getting to her feet and swaying slightly as everything around her seemed to move. Solaire stood to help her, but she shook her head, holding out a hand to stop him. "I'm fine."

He waited a few seconds, watching her with concern and deciding to hold back his assistance for the moment. Instead, he focused on the still tired and sore woman on the floor.

"I can carry you to Firelink Shrine, if that's okay with you," he offered.

Reah hesitated, looking at both of them, nodding, and allowing him to pick her up. They marched toward the elevator and left Reah with Anastacia, and seeing no one else in the Shrine for the moment, they went back towards the elevator, heading to Sen's Fortress. Griggs was supposedly there, if Patches hadn't lied. Luckily the Parish was empty, there were no Hollows around at the time, and their worlds seemed stable, so Grian stopped when they crossed the bridge leading to the little church on top of Andre's smithy. No longer needing any pretence, she removed her helmet, set it on the ground, and leaned between the stone arches. She felt Solaire's hand in the small of her back, shivering pleasantly at the contact, and saw him standing beside her out of the corner of her eye.

"Are you okay?" Solaire asked.

Taking a deep breath and enjoying the clean air blowing between the dense treetops, she nodded.

"Yeah. Pyromancy makes me a bit tired, that's all," she said, leaning slightly against him and closing her eyes, trying to etch in her memory the pleasant warmth of the sun on her skin, the birds singing and the feeling of Solaire's arm encircling her waist, with his solid body against hers.

"Do you need anything?" he gently asked.

Grian turned to look at him, staring at the helmet and his expectant eyes. She nodded slightly and reached up with her hands, grasping both sides of the great helm and lifting it up, tilting it until his chin and mouth were exposed. He didn't move, even if he couldn't see anything with the helmet in that position, used to doing it himself daily to drink Estus when necessary. She earnestly kissed him, enjoying the sweet taste of his mouth, the soft caress of his tongue and the warmth of his lips until she realized she was running out of breath and pulled away, putting on his helmet correctly again. She smiled at the tender, enthralled expression in his eyes and realized how strange it was to be able to do this whenever she wanted. It was no longer impossible, no longer off limits, and she feared that she would never get tired of wanting more and more.

"I think I need you," Grian teasingly said, letting him draw her closer.

"Oh, what a jolly coincidence. I find myself in the same predicament," Solaire quipped, grazing her cheek with his warm, strong hand and intently looking at her.

"I really hate that we're in a hurry right now," Grian wistfully said, sighing as the thought of rebelling and stalling began to take shape in her head. Of course, she wasn't going to, but still. "Isn't time supposed to be relative here? Why couldn't it be relatively slower when we were in Firelink?"

Solaire's deep laughter echoed inside his helm, and he cleared his throat as Grian's playfully coy smile grew.

"It was rather inconvenient. The loss of your attentions certainly displeased me, but being unable to give you mine is worse," he said in a low tone that sent chills down the back of Grian's neck, who couldn't help but blush violently, feeling how her mouth went dry.

"I hope we can have more time soon," she mournfully said, resting her forehead briefly on his chest before pulling back. "Let's get moving. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

Grian wearily reached for her helmet but didn't put it on, taking Solaire's hand and pulling him to follow.

"Don't worry, my dear. We will find time," Solaire affectionately replied.

Grian didn't reply, afraid that even mentioning it might turn everything against her. She went down the stairs without letting go of him, stopping at the bonfire when she heard the rattle of Andre's hammer from below. The truth was, she wanted to make sure he was okay too, and it wouldn't hurt to get their weapons and armour ready, even if they were in a hurry. Sighing, she gestured toward the stairs, and Solaire nodded, following her again.

She could have released Solaire out of habit, to keep up appearances that no longer existed, to keep their relationship private, but she did none of that. They stepped down before Andre and waited for him to finish his work in silence, and when he looked up under thick white brows, Grian could see his frown, and then his expression filled with surprise to see her holding the knight's hand and leaning slightly towards him.

"Blade? Oh… It's been a while. Everything alright?" Andre said, intently looking at them. "It's good to see you, Solaire."

"It's good to see you too, friend."

"Anything I can do for you both?"

"We want to get our weapons and armour ready," Grian replied.

Andre nodded, pointing to a spot next to him.

"Leave them here. I'll take care of it."

They complied and began to take their things off. Grian could feel Andre's scrutinizing gaze at all times, ignoring it and knowing that he was curious about the situation.

Solaire finished long before she had removed her pieces of armour, so he came up behind her and helped her unhook her breastplate straps and other pieces in silence. Grian blushed, pretending that his casual approach didn't shock her in the least, finding she quite enjoyed it. He smiled at her as he knelt down and began to remove the straps from one of her poleyns while she kept taking the rerebraces.

They dumped their things in the pile next to Andre, and something echoed up the stairs, breaking the strange silence. Grian and Solaire looked at each other.

"I'll take a look. Stay here," Solaire said, listening carefully.

"What? No! No, no way," Grian snapped, frowning.

"It will be alright, dear. There's a bonfire. It's most likely just another traveller. You stay here, take the rest of your armour off and watch our equipment," he said reassuringly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze and hopping onto the stairs, running up.

Sighing in frustration, Grian restrained herself from running after him and giving him at least a moment the benefit of doing what he wanted. Circling back and forth, she heard Solaire speaking in a friendly tone to someone, easing some of the tension and turning as she heard Andre chuckling behind her.

"What's so funny?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest as the blacksmith shook his head and continued his work.

"Is that the deranged, aggravating knight with a stupidly cheerful attitude you can't stand?" he asked with a sardonic glint in his eyes.

Grian debated whether to leap over the anvil and hit him with his own hammer or not.

"You knew each other," she accusingly countered.

"Soon after we talked, he found me and requested my services. I see you're getting along now."

"He always got along with me, to be honest, even if I wasn't being especially nice. He's just ridiculously good," Grian replied, ignoring Andre's laugh.

"Well, I'm glad you two are on friendlier terms."

"You could call it that. He's my husband."

Grian felt a certain sense of triumph as she saw the surprise in the blacksmith's eyes. She was also proud of how she said it with unwavering confidence and no shame.

"I wasn't expecting that," Andre admitted, stopping his hammering on the piece he was working on. "Is this a recent development?"

"It's… complicated. But yes, it's recent."

"Then, as it's customary, I wish you happiness, prosperity, and many healthy children," Andre said with a wide smile.

Grian paled for, as far as she knew, having children with the Curse was absolutely impossible and it was insanity to even want them when the world was in shambles. She turned suddenly when she heard footsteps and saw Solaire peering down the stairs.

"I knew the pilgrim resting at the bonfire; he has given me information about someone who may be Griggs," the knight said.

"You can go upstairs. I'll let you know when the job is done," Andre informed.

Grian immediately went with Solaire and they both went to the bonfire. The aforementioned pilgrim was no longer there, so they sat together against the wall, overlooking the bridge that led to Sen's Fortress.

"It seems there is a sorcerer attacking travellers in the middle level of the Fortress, probably stuck after falling into a trap," Solaire said, tilting his head towards her.

Grian breathed heavily. That sounded unbelievably disheartening, and the memory of Laurentius came back to her. She had to rub her brows in an attempt to relieve the pressure inside her head.

"Maybe he's... Hollow," she whispered, her voice tired and resigned to the unpleasant feeling of defeat and sadness.

"We will deal with this together," Solaire said, nuzzling her cheek. "This place is pretty busy, but we can sleep while Andre works. The Fortress is always a tricky place."

Nodding resignedly, Grian pushed away from the wall and lay on the floor on her side. Solaire stretched out behind her, with a protective arm around her and his whole body against hers like a warm wall. His head was behind hers, and when she closed her eyes, feeling better with him there and relaxing at how his body moulded to hers, she felt his head move slightly, and now his breath was on the back of her neck. Unexpectedly, Grian began to feel ticklish with each breath as time passed, fidgeting. But he didn't seem to take the hint, and when she moved a little, he came back even closer, and Grian shuddered when she felt him breathing against her skin, growling with frustration. She finally elbowed him, digging back into his ribs, and heard him make a surprised sound.

Frowning, she raised her head a little to look at him over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she asked in an exasperated whisper, though not too seriously.

"Trying to sleep," he simply answered.

"Sure, but…" She trailed off, deciding she didn't want to admit that she was ticklish.

"What? Are you uncomfortable?" he asked in such a casual tone that Grian immediately knew it wasn't, rolling her eyes and laying back down.

"No. I'm fine," she said, determined not to let him win. However, as soon as she leaned back on the ground and settled against him, she felt his breath again tickling the back of her neck, and she had to tighten her mouth, puff out her cheeks and hold her breath in a desperate grimace to contain the laughter. Ultimately, she could swear that he was blatantly blowing air into the nape of her neck. She couldn't contain it any longer, letting out a loud snort as she turned indignantly, hearing him shamelessly chortling. Solaire tried to catch her arms when she light-heartedly slapped him.

She suddenly twisted, finally turning on him and attacking him directly from the sides, pinching as best she could with his gambeson and clothing protecting him. Struggling to intercept each other's arms and grapple in vivid ground combat to ruthlessly search for weak spots, Grian found herself uncontrollably laughing as he pinned her down, grabbing her arms while she squirmed. Without missing a beat, Solaire bent down, buried his face in her neck and started blowing air against her skin as she writhed, red and laughing, using her legs to try and wriggle free.

Suddenly, the familiar ringing of a bell made them stop, reminding them where they were. Someone had rung the Bell of Awakening, someone walking through their world and time. Solaire released her, and they looked at each other for a few seconds in silence as footsteps echoed through the upper level, descending the stairs. They quickly sat down, flushed and dishevelled, and a stranger looked at them with suspicion and a bit of curiosity. Solaire and Grian leaned against the wall, giving him space and remaining silent as he sat at the fire, and Solaire nodded to him. He barely paused, gathering his strength and Estus before marching down the stairs, shaking his head like he had just caught two teenagers and wanted nothing to do with it.

Solaire smiled, looking at her sideways with an expression hardly concerned or apologetic, and Grian rolled her eyes, resting her head on his shoulder and leaning into him when he put an arm around her. It was clear that they wouldn't have a chance to be alone unless they got lost in the dark gardens, if they even found enough time for that.

When she awoke, she was sleeping alone, and after cursing vigorously and collecting her equipment from Andre, she began to grouchily search for Solaire's summon sign. She found him soon after, summoning him and seeing that he was fully prepared. She forgot part of her bad mood after having him by her side again, but Sen's Fortress took care of making her miserable again. Both the traps, the memories, and the ominous situation that was coming made her anxiety and discomfort grow like a black cloud, and her only relief was the silent knight shining like a golden sun at her side.

Finding Griggs possessed by blind murderous rage hurt more than she had expected. Again, having Solaire made all the difference, and even if they couldn't talk, the fact that he fought by her side and he was the one to put Griggs to rest selfishly relieved the terror that bubbled in her mind at the thought of doing it herself. The memory of Laurentius was still fresh; this time, however, she could resort to taking refuge in someone's arms instead of running away after it was all over. She could hold back the lump in her throat and keep going, heading back toward the bonfire without feeling alone and guilty.

She waited until her world connected naturally with Solaire's. She waited a long time, but she wasn't going to move without being able to talk to him first and plan the next part of the journey in detail.

They both sat in silence for a few moments, watching the bonfire flames with a heavy, sombre air about them.

"He must have been looking for his master, Logan," Grian said, shaking his head and breathing heavily. "And I'm sure he's gone insane too, alone in the Duke's Archives."

"I think I know where Siegmeyer might be," Solaire replied, immediately catching Grian's eye. "I already told you about that lake swallowed by mists, trees and ash in the depths of Blighttown."

Taking a deep breath, Grian nodded. It was the only lead they had from Patches, and irritating as it was, he had turned out to be right about Griggs. So they agreed to set out again for the dreadful Depths by the shortcut in Firelink Shrine, summoning each other when they lost contact with each other's worlds.

The descent towards the entrance to the particular area that Solaire had found by chance was plagued by enemies and invaders, without allowing them a rest or a moment of security beyond the punctual one they found at the bonfires. The sense of danger and the foreboding feeling that it would all be a series of dire events entwined by black threads and a fate that could not be fought crushed Grian. Any small gesture of relief she found in Solaire was cruelly surrounded by death, corruption, and pain, and she could swear the sun overhead was getting closer to setting. When they reached the muddy base beyond Blighttown, they could barely see any light in the darkened sky that dimmed high above the unreachable walls.

She wanted to say that she didn't expect what awaited them in that reflection of another time under trees that seemed older than the sun and the moon, like pillars supporting the world. Between calm waters and forgotten beaches, between ash and mist, Grian wanted to think it was at least a beautiful place to say goodbye to the cruel world that suffocated them. At first, she only felt numb at the sight of the two knights from Catarina, father and daughter, vaguely aware of Sieglinde's words explaining that she had had to end her father's life, of Solaire's arm around her shoulders and of the cold temperature around her, of the moisture in the air and the emptiness writhing within her. Her eyes were fixed on the figure lying on the ground, thinking and feeling things that failed to break the numbness, listening to the conversation as if there were an ocean between her and the rest of the world.

"…he was a great man and a friend, even if he had flaws. We all have them, but we're just trying to find something of value…" Solaire said.

"He could have found that with his family," was Sieglinde's bitter reply.

There were no more words, just silence until Solaire offered to help her give him a dignified resting place. As always, it was natural for him to react with kindness; acts of compassion and humanity were as natural to him as they would have been in any other situation or place far from that misery. Without speaking or making a sound, Grian wept silently into her helmet and helped bury that foolish knight from Catarina in a beautiful dune on the beach, thinking that at least he had accomplished his mission of venturing where few humans would ever reach. Siegmeyer had died following an absurd goal, just as they followed theirs, trapped in the paradox of needing what seemed like nonsense and unattainable ambitions to survive a little longer. Sieglinde wouldn't understand, but Grian understood now better than ever why families, ties, or whatever they had previously were worthless to most people when the Curse was on their heels. If they already had something, they couldn't have an ambition about it, not strong enough, if it was firmly established. It was the cruelty of denying normality, pushing the reality that only those whose goals were continually challenged could maintain their own essence. Most weren't even aware of it, pursuing wisdom, adventure, a solution to the Curse, or even the sun, but those abstract things and a pressing need had kept them being who they were. The fact that there was a prophecy giving hope created something easily extensible to everyone, something to focus on apart from personal reasons. It was suspiciously convenient that the Curse pushed them on this mission, acting as their only salvation while they were blindfolded, desperately wanting something unattainable and being forced to serve selfish Gods.

She took out the little ring with the pink gem and thought of Anor Londo, of their other encounters. She could beat herself up wondering if she could have done things differently and saved them all, but another, darker thought crept in before that one. The lies of the Gods were the condemnation of people they considered insignificant; people much more valuable than them. They were making sure that humans couldn't live everyday lives or enjoy themselves.

She glanced sideways at Solaire, his helmet tilted as he looked at Siegmeyer's grave. Even the most resistant to it were doomed to eventually lose that game. There was a prevailing need to push humanity into darkness or light, and meanwhile, they were being torn apart in the tug of war.

Chapter Text

The way back to Firelink Shrine was arduous and mostly silent. Solaire tried to cheer her up on several occasions, but he himself masked his grief after what had happened, coming to terms with the idea that people they had considered friends were never coming back. It was strange and especially painful when their unnatural existence centred around coming back to life.

When they finally reached Firelink, Grian was physically and mentally exhausted and just wanted to sleep, and that's what she did. She lay down with Solaire, resting her head on his chest and relaxing under the protection of his strong arm, ready to drift off to sleep so she wouldn't have to dwell on painful memories. However, it seemed that her dreams weren't willing to allow her that peace, as was often the case, and soon she began to have nightmares in which Edgert murdered Siegmeyer and she never left the cell, floating and breaking her bones in a sea of light and dark, or in which she never saved Solaire and had to say goodbye to him in his crazed and tortured state. She woke with wet cheeks and racked with painful sobs, suffocated by an excruciating pressure in her throat, closing her eyes again and trying to control herself. Then, she felt a hand caressing hers and heard Solaire whispering something reassuring, kissing her forehead. 

He's here. He's fine. I managed to help him, she thought, trying to calm down.

When she woke up, she saw that Solaire was still lying there, holding her, but he was looking up at the sky with a worried expression, his brows slightly furrowed. The fact that the sun was slowly setting wasn't just her imagination, he seemed to have noticed it too, and she could imagine the implications were even more intimidating for him. 

Grian caressed his chest, running her hand over the fabric of his surcoat, over the sun drawn on it, and rested it over his heart.

"I think the world is dying," Grian whispered, surprised by the resignation in her voice despite the dread she felt.

"I'm afraid there are worse things than dying," Solaire replied, placing a hand over hers. "We know that all too well."

"Let's ignore it for a moment longer."

I'll figure out how to fix this later, if it can even be fixed, she thought.

Solaire made an affirmative sound, looking away from the sky and back at her.

"What would you wish to do with your life if we weren't here, if everything went back to normal and the Curse didn't exist?" he asked.

With a thoughtful sigh, Grian considered the question uncertainly, realising that she had never allowed herself to go so far as to imagine something that seemed impossible. She barely remembered a time when what she wanted mattered, even before she was branded by the curse.

"I'm not sure," she admitted, lowering her gaze. "I might want a house… an actual house I could return to after my travels."

"You want to travel?"

"Just because I'm not stuck in Lordran, it doesn't mean I am content to just sit still planting pumpkins all the time," Grian said, shaking her head.

"Pumpkins are nice," Solaire teased with a soft smile.

"Yes, but I don't want to deal with them. I am not a farmer."

"Would I be invited to that house?"

Grian rolled her eyes and snorted.

"I don't think there's a need to invite someone who already lives there, but of course, you're invited if you take care of those pumpkins yourself."

Solaire laughed, and they both remained in a comfortable silence that seemed like the calm before the storm. Dreaming and imagining things, turning them into plans, was a catastrophe when everything around them was against hope, and as far as they knew, they had no future. At the same time, it was inevitable when despite the misery around them, they had their own fragile personal happiness.

They talked about everything and nothing, about things far from gods and primordial powers as they rested under the shade of the old tree, in the gathering darkness. They mostly ignored the people who occasionally passed by, strangers on their own travels, and time seemed to go faster than ever before. They didn't talk about anything unfortunate, about deaths or painful memories, but about small things that revealed a little more about who they were, tiny bits of information and terribly important facts at the same time.

When she fell asleep again, taking advantage of the calm and the feeling of safety, Grian had no more nightmares. This time the nightmare would be waiting for her to open her eyes again.

She hated waking up to find Solaire gone, but she had experienced it so many times before that her first reaction was not alarm but annoyance.

Grian yawned and stretched, looking around and seeing only Reah kneeling near the bonfire. She seemed deep in prayer, muttering to herself with clasped hands under the darkening twilight sky. It was strangely quiet, and Grian felt an unpleasant unease she couldn't put a name to writhing inside her at that sight.

She approached Reah, seeing no sign of Solaire's summoning sign nearby. Perhaps he was still asleep in his world and did not realise they had separated.

"Hello, Reah. Are you okay?" Grian asked, looking at her and frowning in concern at her wide-eyed, exalted expression, pale and haggard.

"We do not have time. We do not have time. We have failed, we have been abandoned…" she muttered in a shaky voice, looking sideways at Grian with those bloodshot eyes and panicked look. Her mouth hung half-opened, and she tried to speak several times before succeeding, shaken by a nameless disturbance as she smiled madly, on the verge of tears. "I saw him talking to that foul, holy serpent. He is… he is going to save us."

Grian's face immediately hardened, clenching her fists and holding back the horrible sensation burning through her veins.

"Who was talking to the serpent?" she harshly asked. When Reah didn't respond, she moved closer, dropping to one knee in front of her and grabbing her shoulders, shaking her violently, her face flushed with anger. She could see how Reah finally focused, mostly out of fear. "Who was talking to Frampt?"

Reah vaguely smiled, her face changing between fear, joy, and terror, shuddering and looking at her resignedly.

"I heard them talking, and he understood there was no other way. He has to become the sun," she said, trembling and fervently grabbing her back as Grian's countenance sank with understanding, distress, and fury.

She jerked free and stood up, feeling a strange numbness on top of everything else as she put on her helmet and grabbed her weapons, heading for Frampt's hole and feeling as if the nightmare began to close in around her again. The illusion was crumbling, and reality returned with all its might, but what dominated each of her movements was the need to reach Solaire and stop the situation. She had to catch up with him and stop what had begun to unravel as soon as she had dared to momentarily lower her guard.

She found the stinking serpent looming in his usual spot with a calm and confident demeanour, as if determined to gloat and wait to face her. Grian stood before him as Blade, the only thing left when everything else was threatened, as pure menace embodied in a human figure cloaked in leather, cloth, and metal, baptised in blood and ready to destroy absolutely anything standing in her way.

"You... I knew you would come, but there is nothing you can do anymore. Luckily, the knight you gave the Souls to is just what the world needs, unlike you," Frampt sneered.

"What did you tell him?" Grian barked through her teeth, tightening her grip on the bastard sword.

Frampt chuckled.

"The same thing I told you. He needs the power of those Souls to access the Kiln of the First Flame and succeed Lord Gwyn. If not, the world will die, plunged into darkness."

Fighting between the burning urge to kill the serpent in the most painful way possible and search for Solaire, Grian released a groan of frustration, launching herself down into the hole before Frampt could stop her, snarling horribly at her quick move. Grian took off running as soon as she landed below, ignoring Frampt and bolting past the Lordvessel and through the old gates beyond. In a strange space of brilliant white, she passed through the fire-twisted silhouettes of Gwyn's old silver knights, down the stairs, and finally into the expanse of ruins and ash that was the Kiln of the First Flame.

Panting, Grian looked at that sinister place covered with black and orange clouds and found it surprisingly cold. The figure of something that looked like a molten coliseum loomed in the distance, but everything seemed to have been melted and charred around it, as if there had been an immeasurable explosion at temperatures capable of melting rock. Running through the ash, Grian slaughtered the black knights around her, formerly silver knights, in a brutal rage, looking around desperately for any sign of Solaire's whereabouts. She didn't know how she would find him, and when she reached the spiral stairs to access the coliseum, she was thinking of any possible way to anchor their worlds. However, she stopped short when Lordran allowed the small mercy of doing it for her.

There he was, nearly all the way down, among the corpses of several black knights, catching his breath.

Grian descended the stairs as if a monster was chasing her. Solaire turned in surprise to see her come down, removing her helmet and dropping her weapons without pausing, leaping down the steps and throwing herself at him. She didn't know if she was hugging him or holding him back, breathing as if she were suffocating and unable to hear anything for a few seconds.

"… it's okay, you're alright. You shouldn't be here," Solaire worriedly said, wrapping his shield-armed arm carefully around her and resting his helmeted head lightly on top of hers.

"What do you think you're doing? You… you're the one who shouldn't be here!" she breathlessly yelled, furious, clutching at his surcoat.

"No, I shouldn't be here, but you saved me," he softly answered, and Grian didn't know what to say, how to scream at him for the absurdity of his words, shocked in horror. "So here I am, I have the Lord Souls, and the light is fading. I can't allow that to happen."

"They are my Souls. I must be the one who decides what to do with them! I should be the one taking the risk, not you!" Grian roared, pulling away and glaring at him, rage burning in her gaze while her body shook.

Solaire miserably looked down, shaking his head.

"I am so sorry, love, but I can't return them to you. I can't let you face that when I can do it instead," he said, with certainty that terrified and horrified Grian, watching as her power to fix the situation evaporated, as everything crumbled under her feet, and she could do nothing but watch. "I will fight for the world you deserve and a chance for you to truly live."

"I can't truly live in a world without you!" she hissed, trembling, pacing desperately under Solaire's gaze, full of concern and pain. "You don't know if you'll come back from that Kiln, and you don't know what will happen when you take Gwyn's place! You don't know anything, and that... that serpent... Solaire, it doesn't have to be you, not you... no... Please, give me the Souls, come here…"

"I will try to get back to you, I swear," he said, setting his shield down and sheathing his sword. He went to her, hugging her again to stop her continued walking back and forth in a frenzied panic.

"You are not listening! Why are you not...? Just-just come with me, let's get out of here... let's go, please, I beg you," she desolately pleaded, clinging to him as if he was a ghost about to vanish.

"Don't beg to me, please… Don't do that," Solaire said, his voice breaking from utter certainty to a deep pain he was uselessly trying to hold back.

Grian had the burning feeling that Frampt was pushing them into something they couldn't come back from, so she would do anything to make him understand that she couldn't just let him go. She had been too proud and wrapped up in her own pain in the past, which prevented her from enjoying her time with Solaire and stopping her father when he left, but not anymore.

"I love you. I need you. Don't do this... I need more time," she implored in open defeat, her face glued to the sun drawn on his chest.

Solaire released a shaky breath and pulled away from her, taking her face in his hands and looking at her from inside the helmet with tear-filled blue eyes, caressing her cheeks and scanning every detail of her face.

"I would have given you anything you wanted, everything but this. I am not going to let you sacrifice anything else," Solaire said, and she saw wrinkles under his eyes, indicating a last sad smile as she shook her head in denial, her heart about to explode. "Have no fear. We will see each other again."

Shaken with anxiety and despair, Grian barely had time to understand what was happening when he broke away from her, reaching for his weapons. She couldn't move. There was a ring of runic light around her torso, a miracle making all movement as hard as if surrounded by a heavy mud oppressing her body. But her body was beginning to fade, and though she screamed, writhed and cursed, Solaire did not turn back to look at her. Not even once. Though she begged and screamed, the Knight of Sunlight continued down the stairs with his hand tightly clutching his talisman.

The miracle dragged her away, enveloped in light and leaving her in suspended space for a few seconds before she found herself lying on her back on a blanket of grass. She opened her mouth, but the air that entered her lungs didn't seem to be enough to breathe with her eyes wide open, fixed on the darkening sky while she grabbed fistfuls of the grass as if that could shake her body from its stupor, as if it that could bring any relief for the immeasurable pain bubbling up inside her.

Suddenly the entire world seemed to stop, held by an echo suspended in time that reverberated through the earth and heavens. Grian felt as if a wave of energy hit everything, forcing her to close her eyes and cover her tear-filled eyes so as not to be dazzled. The cold and the gathering darkness seemed to receive such a blow that they were mercilessly expelled, and her own soul seemed to vibrate with the heat that rose and ignited all of existence. When she dared to open her eyes again, pulling away her trembling hands and looking beyond the branches of the familiar Firelink Shrine tree, she saw an endless blue sky and the shining midday sun, and she froze.

The sun of Lordran shone again, and with it, the whole world. And she knew then, with absolute certainty, that she would not see Solaire again.

A tormented howl escaped her throat and turned into a heartbreaking wail as the excruciating pain erupted in her chest. At first, she didn't believe she could survive the misery possessing every fibre of her being, how her limbs went rigid, and her throat burned, how something seemed to be twisting and melting her heart and leaving only a miasma of grief in its place. Then she was afraid of surviving that unbearable agony, knowing that the pain would never subside or give her relief. It would stay there while she screamed to the top of her lungs, mewled and sobbed, and when she couldn't do it anymore. Not even an eternity would calm that gaping wound tearing her down. Her mind refused to accept that she had lived happiness, and suddenly everything had disappeared, and it seemed obscene that the world continued to exist. It was horrible when hers had ceased to exist and everything had stopped, evaporated.

Grian lay there crying like a wounded animal until the sun went down, and she couldn't tell if anyone existed around her. She didn't care. Her blank stare was all that was left when she could no longer make a sound, and tears streamed down her blank face. The reality around her was just a memory of what had taken away the only thing that mattered to her, and the people that could start to live and enjoy life were just a vision of what she couldn't have.

A voice came through the limbo of shock, between the unbearable ache and numbness.

"You can't give up now. Don't you want to see him?"

Frowning slightly and looking around like her body wasn't even hers, Grian saw a figure in the night. It was Laurentius. 

So she had finally lost her mind, which shouldn't be a terrible surprise, but then the figure in front of her offered a hand to pull her up.

Grian reached up with a trembling hand, taking Laurentius' warm and surprisingly real one, and made a choking sound as he helped her up. She felt like her insides had just been ripped out but fought to stay upright anyway, looking at another figure beside Laurentius. Griggs was there, too, smiling warmly. He handed her her sword, and she hesitantly took it.

"Come on, Grian. He is waiting for us," the sorcerer said, pointing toward Frampt's pit.

As if in a dream born out of pure desolation, confused and numb, Grian obeyed and walked ahead of them, dropping back down the hole and landing with a tired grunt. Laurentius and Griggs stayed behind, but she continued beyond the Lordvessel and down the stairs, now empty and quite normal, to the expanse of crystallised ground, blackened by fire and covered with ash, looking at the embers still igniting every corner of the sweltering place.

"This way, lass. There is no time to waste!" Siegmeyer exclaimed animatedly from beside her, slapping her vigorously on the back, which made her unsteady, shocked at how real it all seemed and beginning to believe it, even though it didn't make sense.

She kept walking behind the knight from Catarina like a ghost, going down the same steps next to the coliseum and stopping at the bottom, knowing that she would be breaking down again if she had more tears or strength to do so. There was the huge, dark figure of Tarkus in his black armour waiting for her near the entrance to the Kiln.

Grian froze wide-eyed as he advanced towards her, looming like a mountain of steel.

"Do not let me down, daughter. You have been through so much. I need you to be strong and finish what I could not," Tarkus said, placing a hand on her shoulder and lifting her chin, giving her a loving touch and leading her toward the entrance to the Kiln.

Speechless, Grian saw a tall figure standing before a dying bonfire. The one responsible for all her pain. Gwyn breathed heavily, empty-eyed, consumed like a mindless Hollow, clutching a huge flaming sword. Seeing that shadow of the old god, with his long white hair and beard, his regal robes and empty stare, Grian decided that she could at least end her existence by taking revenge, and she charged into combat as soon as Gwyn leapt for her.

Every step she had taken, every enemy defeated, every moment of pain took possession of her body, and her anger burned with more intensity than any fire that decrepit god could conjure. In a last dance, standing up against one she had thought all-powerful, Grian killed Gwyn by plunging her sword into his heart and watched as he fell apart with the pleasure of knowing that she, a human, had defeated a god.

But she found that she was not alone.

Panting, she looked at Solaire, standing by that last bonfire in the centre of the Furnace, alive. Her heart almost died again, and her reality twisted, limping toward him as if he were the only light in the world and had been about to plunge into darkness. She ran, nearly tripping, but stopped when she saw his hand rising and stopping her with a firm gesture, pointing serenely at the sword stuck in the ashes and the fire licking at their feet.

"Link this bonfire, and we shall be together again," he said, offering her his hand, which she took with a strange sensation while something yelled inside her, something she tried to squash so she could rejoice and enjoy him. His hand seemed real, warm and firm, and softly guided hers towards the fire, but suddenly she stopped, frowning, held back by that vague feeling that something was wrong. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and looked at her with his serene blue eyes through the great helm's eye-slits. "Don't you want this to end? I cannot go with you unless you do this. Trust me."

She trusted him. That was all that mattered, not the inconvenient doubts of her shattered mind, so she reached down and gave all her power to the bonfire, feeling the fire escalate through her hand, grasping her arm eagerly as Solaire melted before her eyes like a mirage breaking in specks of light.

Wide-eyed, Grian turned as the indescribable pain of the fire slowly bit into her flesh and her very essence. With confusion and horror, she saw an unknown figure at the entrance to the Kiln for a few seconds, wrapped in a white dress with a golden crown similar to a sun and a sea of snakes coming out between the skirts instead of legs. It was only a few moments, but she saw it before it disappeared, leaving her to burn in solitude.

She ended her pilgrimage opposite to how she began it, feeling an unbearable heat and painfully alive while the Flame cruelly consumed her. She didn't scream, for physical pain seemed laughable after all she had suffered, even if it was the worst she had ever endured. She closed her eyes as her body fell apart and her Darksign faded, feeling the rejection and hunger of the Flame around her, its demands to give more even though she didn't have it.

The last thing she noticed was how her body fell to the ground, wrapped in light, slowly turning to ashes and knowing with absolute certainty that that beautiful woman in her delusions had been right. The Gods did not care about love or the lives of others, their suffering, fears or even admiration. They cared only for a way to fuel the fires of their power, consuming even those who had nothing else to offer.

Of all the lies, she only hoped that one was true, that she could see Solaire again, even if it was after this horrible life. 

Grian released her consciousness, surrendered her energy, and plunged between the edge of light and dark with a last rush of trepidation.