Chapter 1: The Lost City

"Master, allow me..." she repeated in fear that she had not been heard, but he silenced her with a glance full of pain and frustration. Without hesitation she began to clean the wound. Gwyndolin hissed when she touched his skin, still freshly scarred by the ones foolish enough to challenge a god. And though the darkmoon magic had never failed them, she has seen Gwyndolin going weaker each day.

"I'm finished, master" the knightess whispered, gently pressing a clean cloth against the man's pale chest, now covered in scars, burns and bruises, much like her own. He nodded in gratitude, and in a blink of an eye all of the traces of battle disappeared, revealing the immaculate body of a god. But the looks upon his face hinted it was only an illusion. Just like everything in this forsaken city.

"Master, can you stand? Shall we retreat?" the woman asked faintly, but the echoes magnified her voice in an eerie way.

"Retreat?" he replied and cleared his throat right away, startled by the weakness in his voice. "What dost thou mean? Dost thou wish to flee? Abandon the post?"

"No, of course not, I just... I fear about you- about your condition, master." they walked out of the chamber slowly to get some fresh air, like they always would before parting ways. "Perhaps we could leave just for a moment, so you could restore your strength. The Blades can keep watch on the cathedral."

"No, 'tis forbidden. I shall remain here until the day Father's legacy is inherited by the one worthy of it." he breathed in, staring at the distant moon, but then he turned around to see his comrade. Her face was horrifically disfigured, yet somehow brought solace. "Ailith, I hold thee august and loyal of a companion, but ne'er might I leave this very land. 'Tis my final duty to repel the cursed ones."

They stood in silence for another few minutes. And it was not a consoling kind of silence. There was no wind, no birds, not even the slightest hum of flowing water. Ailith was used to this grim picture, which despite of being so still, was not at all calm or peaceful. It almost felt unreal, and in fact, it was. The majority of once glorious Anor Londo was nothing but a beautiful lie. A golden monument rotten through the core. How ironic, the woman thought. So am I.

"Farewell, master Gwyndolin. I shall reunite with you the following night." the knightess bowed before the man prior to putting her helm on. She was about to turn around, when she felt a touch on her shoulder. Ailith dared to look upon the god. His silver image was as magnificent as it was sorrowful.

"I thank thee." he said softly.

When Ailith returned to her post on the other side of the rotating bridge, it was already dawning. A faint ray of sunlight filled the area with contrast, illuminating it, but also casting long shadows of the sleek, tall buildings of the city of gods. For a newcomer, such sight would be breathtaking and magnificent. But for the knightess it has become mere a prison. Lordran has been descending into darkness, and if not for Gwyndolin, she would have abandoned all hope a long time ago. But was time really passing anyhow? It felt like an eternity of recurring torment.

As Ailith walked into her chamber, the crackling of the bonfire struck her with a thought. How come she was sworn to protect the fire yet held so much darkness within her soul? And every now and then she caught herself thinking that it was the darkness that would eventually bring peace, since the flame was destined to fade. This thought she always brushed aside as quickly as she could, stricken by guilt and fear of losing the alliance with her master, who, much like her, was a being of darkness. The difference was her being human and him, a deity.

Her reverie was interrupted by a loud noise from outside the chamber. The Fire Keeper readied her dagger with caution, but did not yet unsheathe her weapon, waiting motionlessly. First, she heard a few quick metallic sounds. Sword fight, she thought. A moment later, the ruckus of something very heavy hitting the ground. Must have been the giant sentry. This was not a good sign. Ailith unsheathed her estoc, ready to defend herself. Her dagger shone viciously in her left hand, reflecting the warm light of the bonfire. She listened, at first hearing nothing, but then she noticed light steps, almost completely muffled by the crackling flame. They got louder as the enemy drew closer. Soon, a dark silhouette of a man appeared in the doorway. The person slowly walked down the stairs, revealing more details of his apparel. He was wearing a worn out leather chestplate and mismatched black greaves. A gargoyle's decorative helm adorned his head.

The Fire Keeper lowered her weapon, but remained steady. She took a closer look at the intruder, analysing the situation. In case of attack, there was no way of escape for her. She would have to fight. But despite the odd outfit and a giant sword in his hand, the stranger did not seem to be a Hollow. At least not fully, since he did not attack immediately. Ailith decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, placing the estoc back in the scabbard. The man mirrored her action and approached the bonfire.

"Forgive me. It is better to be cautious nowadays." the knightess said. "You are a rare visitor. Welcome to the lost city of Anor Londo" she greeted him with a grin, even though he could not see it from behind her brass helm.

"Thank you." he replied "It is a relief to finally encounter a friendly figure. I am on a long journey."

Friendly, Ailith thought, we shall see about that. She leaned against the wall, crossing shoulders.

"If I may ask, who are you?" he continued.

"Well… I am the Keeper of the bonfire. If not for me, what beacon would there be in this lost city?" She immediately thought of Gwyndolin and the promise to keep his presence a secret. "A gatekeeper and a guide. That is my calling."

"A keeper" the man took his funny helm off, revealing a shocked expression on his tired face. He looked young, yet the dark circles around his eyes and a large scar across the cheek spoke volumes. "Could you perhaps…" he paused and started to look through a small sack he carried, soon pulling out a radiant object. It looked like a white flame dancing in his palm. Within it twirled several dark particles. It was a soul, and even though unlike any Ailith has ever seen, she well knew what kind of soul that was and that knowledge filled her with unexpected sadness. After all, she held the same one within her bosom.

Gwyndolin sat before his Father's coffin. He thought of him and of Gwynevere. Of his elder brother. Of mother. Why did they abandon him? Was his mission of protecting the capital really that important? Or maybe it was a mere explanation of why they left him all alone. Gwyndolin blamed humans for the downfall of the golden age. For the parting of his family. Human pests, spreading the disease like lice. Even the Great Lord Gwyn succumbed to this dreadful curse. All for naught. That was why the guilty had to be punished.

"This very spot marketh my father's grave." the Dark Sun said to himself. "And it marketh mine as well."

The warrior unlaced his armor, growling lightly. A small pool of blood gathered on the floor by his knees. To a mortal, it would be a lethal wound, however an undead could withstand much more. The damaged torso of the man reminded Ailith of Gwyndolin's from the other night. She bent down to help the newcomer, used to aiding her master.

"Thank you." the man said. "It is long since someone truly eased my journey." He muffled a scream of pain as the knightess was taking care of the deep cut left by a broad blade of Sen's Fortress' manserpent. "I am on an important mission. But I bet you already know all about the prophecy."

"If you truly are the chosen one… proceed through the city. To Lord Gwyn's old keep. There, a revelation shall visit thee." the Fire Keeper replied with a dose of cynicism, imitating the speech of Gwyndolin. She finished her work, wrapping up the wound with a linen cloth. Then she turned around and picked up a tiny bottle glimmering with gold, though seconds ago it was emerald green. "Here" she handed the flask to the stranger. "I used the power you bestowed upon me to enrich your Estus. May it serve you." The man smiled gratefully and sat back, his spine against the wall.

"If you require rest, now is the time. That is, after all, what the bonfire is for." the woman's voice was warm, but with a slight cheek to it. Before she walked out, she remembered something. She knelt down the bonfire and took one of the charred bones that rested among the ashes. It cooled quickly, so she handed it to her companion. "Take this. It may be of use." Without waiting for the response, she turned around and headed towards the exit. "Now get some sleep." she added, looking backwards.

The sun was at its highest, maybe starting to lower already, but despite its great brilliance, it was quite cold. Ailith decided to take a walk, so the visitor could sleep in peace. A little patrol was in order anyway. The knightess proceeded forward and down the elevator leading to the rotating bridge, but to her surprise, the Gargoyle sentry was not present there. The woman took a step forward, but before she could reach the rotating bridge, it spiralled down, depriving her of further path. The intruder was dangerously close to Gwyndolin's abode.

Ailith unsheathed her weapon, thinking of a quick way to get down, but something spoiled her focus. A distant scream resounded through the city.

And all of the sudden the skies went dark.

A/N I hope you don't mind me giving the Lady of the Darkling a name. And for bending the canon to my own interpretation. If you enjoyed it, feel free to drop a rewiev and await the second part which is in the making. May the moon shine upon you.