So the world might be mended?

Brave soul, who fears not death

I shall guide you to the nexus

So that you may lull the Old-One back to slumber.

The full moon cast a dark light over a silhouette walking though the fog. The walk was unsteady and unsure, as if the walker were finding their feet for the first time, their toes dully scraping across the cobbled path. They walked alone for some time, never encountering another soul, and never uttering a word of helplessness; until there was a breeze. It built in strength billowing the fog around the figure and clearing the path ahead. Revealed was the figure of a woman, dressed in thick dark leather armour, the only distinctive adornments being the silver band laced through her dark hair, and the dull glow of magical rings decorating the pale skin of her hands.

With the receding fog she was filled with the sensation of relief, the dark cloud that had filled her eyes and ears had granted her access to herself again, and her movements were her own once again. All the time she had spent in this world, she had spent as a puppet, drawn by the dull throb of possession to where she now stood. She took a long deep breath, as if it was her first, and cast her eyes on the scene before her. There were many stairs leading up to a great gate, this was a place she had not seen for many years, and as she believed, neither had another living soul. Tensely the young woman reached for the sword that sat at her hip, her hand was not welcomed to the small light blade she was used to, much a much larger sword met her grasp. As her fingers wrapped around the hilt she immediately felt the surge of magic that the sword held within flow into her, and she truly felt at one with this sword.

Ready and prepared for an ambush the woman began to ascend the stairs, her eyes trained on a pair of figures stood at the bas of the gate. They were two men, one stood proudly and dressed in all the regalia of a King, yet the stench of darkness and treachery hung in the air about him. And the other, he was dressed in full armour, protecting all elements of his being, and the sword and shield he held, she knew to be powerful, and the bestowals of a Prince.

Echoes of their discussion floated on the air down to the woman who, upon recognition of the two figures, released her grip on her sword and quickened her pace, as neither of then bore her harm. She knew the older to be the king of the land land on which she now stood, the King of Boletaria, and the other, her oldest and most dearest friend, Ostrava. She could hear the tones of pleading in Ostrava's voice before his stature gave away his desperation. Even through the armour his slumped shoulders were visible, and he was reaching out with every fibre of his being to his father.

'Your mind is not your own, do you not see? Do you not see that the land itself is dying?' Ostrava made a sweeping gesture over the land, and stepped towards his father, his voice softening, 'You need to forsake this evil father, for your people, for those you love...'

The King let out a sharp laugh, mocking his son's apparent ignorance, and the woman halted on the steps, she was close enough, but not intruding,

'You would call this evil? I would call it liberation, a release from this miserable existence you hold so dear-'

'Enough! I would not have you try to poison my mind. You may not grieve for what this land has lost father, but I do, yet, I cannot bring myself to break your hold on our souls for I was born of my mother and hold too much love for you still. Though, remember this, I swear to the Gods and all the brave souls you have trapped, I will aid the one who can defeat you.'

Ostrava who was spent from the row with his father, had poured all of his grief into his speech hoping to finally reach through to the man he knew still resided in the monstrosity that stood before him.

'I welcome the challenge, Ostrava- I hope that one day we can see eye to eye once again.'

'I will see you beyond the Nexus, my King.'

Upon his failure Ostrava turned from his father for the final time and descended the stairs form the royal palace, and set his eyes upon the woman stood before him. As his gaze travelled up her body, from her feet to her eyes, the woman stared into the blackness of the visor and swore she saw the glistening of tears.

He whispered her name in a guttural voice, broken and full of sorrow,

'Ondrea...'

Then he fell.

Simultaneously both bodies pitched forward, Ondrea reaching out to catch the man as he fell, but as this happened the world was once again swallowed in fog, and Ostrava fell like the fog itself through her fingers. The clang of metal hitting stone shuddered through the fog, and the sharp sound of the helmet folding grated against Ondrea's ears. She gasped as her fingers closed around empty air,

'Ostrava!' she fell to her knees desperately trying to touch the fallen Prince, to grasp at their friendship and rescue him from his torment. But the fog was closing in, and her hands fell on nothing, only the cold ground. Then, a warm feeling spread across the floor, spreading over her fingers and surrounding her knees, it was wet and sticky and when Ondrea brought her fingers up to her face, she saw the red taint and smelt the dull rust staining her hands. After the fog melted her vision and senses, her lips met her fingertips and she tasted blood.

Soul of the lost withdrawn from its vessel.

Let strength be granted so the world might be mended.

Soul of the lost withdrawn from its vessel.

Let strength be granted so the world might be mended,

so the world might be mended.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Teaser for my Demon's Souls fic, so as its just a snapshot, the context - this is designed to fit in after the first character death and before your first visit to the nexus. The character gets 'lost' on the way to the nexus.

Opinions?

I don't know whether to make an actual full blown Fic of this, to do snap shots, which would include prequels to this piece to give it more context and depth, or just leave it at this?

Thoughts are greatly appreciated :)