A large iron door. Dark was practically seeping through it. The woman before it, the Witch Regina, had already claimed two crowns, fancying herself a Queen on the rise. First was a smaller title. She ruled the domain of the dark woods on the edges of the Iron King's territory. She had taken it from the Skeleton Lords, and even taken one of their thrones to enjoy.
The second crown was far more impressive. Queen of Shulva. She even wore the plate of the Drakeblood Knights, cloth tied over her mouth, to shield her lungs from the ash. It was fitting, she thought, that she now begun her conquest for the Crown of the Iron King. Ichorous Earth, another casualty on the way to greater power. His kingdom was hers for the taking, by right of combat. The spoils were hers.
Samantha Regina, once a student of the Melfian Magic Academy, now an all-powerful conqueror. She had gone from a nobody, to a nightmare.
"I thought a door like that would be too heavy for a girl like you." A dry, gravelly voice mused.
The Witch spun on her heel, drawing her ornate broadsword, shield at the ready. Instead of a foe, she found the all-too-familiar form of what could possibly be called a friend. It wore armor of bone, and had a thick iron helm bolted to its neck and shoulders, preventing convenient removal.
"You. You startled me. Here to offer more cryptic advice? Going to ramble on about the Dark?" Samantha asked, her words dripping with venom.
The armored figure could only laugh.
"No." He stated simply, moving to open the large iron door for his supposed friend.
"Well? What then? Pretending to be altruistic now? I don't even know your name, wretch. I can hardly call you a friend." Regina retorted, only growing angrier in the face of vague comments.
"I don't have a name. I was called The Darkwraith, by some, but that name has little meaning, now." The strong-armed thing replied, finally prying open the doors.
"Darkwraith, hm? Then how about you make yourself useful, and lead me to the Dark." Samantha commanded, crossing her arms.
Royal Soldiers of Drangleic were dead at the improvised entrance to the tower, some covered in ash, and some more fresh, the curse not granting them the mercy of a second chance.
"Vendrick… What did you do?" Samantha asked quietly, inspecting the corpses.
"You're not the first to try and take this land. The Lord of Light's latest foothold has been out of sorts for longer than you've been alive, little darkling. Let's see if you can succeed where the King failed." The Darkwraith remarked, more interested in the crumbling effigy near the site of slaughter.
"And by Lord of Light you mean King Vendrick?" Regina asked.
The Darkwraith laughed again, always so very amused with mortal beings.
"No." He responded, beginning to stride across the massive iron chain, forward to the Brume Tower.
A frightening effigy, erupted from the ash. Pillars of flame followed, the heat licking at Regina's face.
"What in the name of the Gods is that!?" She shouted.
"Gods have nothing to do with it, girl." The Darkwraith responded, walking into the firestorm.
As the fires faded, Regina spotted her odd and mysterious companion stabbing the statue with a sharp piece of iron, and in a great flash of light, the effigy was no more.
"What did you do?" Samantha asked, her ears still ringing.
"I got rid of it. Take the soul fragment, and the rest of these shards. Before She works up the nerve to try to stop us again." The Darkwraith said, handing a bundle of iron to the Witch.
"Who is 'She'? What do you mean soul fragment?" Regina asked, interrogating her more knowledgeable ally.
"I've seen it before, and felt it, but never like this. She might be fit for leading, if She can pull herself together." The Darkwraith mused, continuing on.
"Soul fragment… In the Effigy? Could someone have… Split their soul?" Samantha asked, more to herself than to her unnerving friend, picking up the piece of undulating darkness that rested on top of the pile of ash and resolving to research the matter more, when she had a spare moment.
Whispers. They were accusing. Unable to be heard, yet torturous. Nadalia was dearly unhappy that the two had stormed her home, and Samantha could do nothing but listen as her focus slipped and her sword fell into the ash.
The shifting of plates echoed as she fell to her knees, putting her armored gauntlets over her ears.
"Make it stop! Make it stop!" She screamed desperately, the words of the dark in her brain.
The Darkwraith narrowly managed to rescue her from an attacking undead, regarding her state as disgraceful. This was an aspiring dark lord? One who so freely manipulated the power of the Dark?
This wouldn't do. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if, when given the opportunity, he allowed the girl to die.
But, for now, he helped her up, put her on her feet, and offered her a drink of her own Estus Flask. There were many trials ahead, and many more chances to die.
The hot iron rod, the so-called Scorching Scepter, was before the two. Unfortunately for their sense of progress and urgency, Regina was feeling squeamish.
"What if it heats my gloves too much and burns me? Or what if it melts clean through the metal? You can't seriously expect me to just grab it!" She protested.
The Darkwraith sighed, nudging past her and grabbing the scepter himself, pulling it from its slot, finding the heat tolerable.
"Has anyone ever told you the story of Venn and Alken?" The Darkwraith asked, continuing on with the scepter in hand.
"Oh, yes, I've heard it many times. Two star-crossed lovers, separated from one another. A classic, to be sure. I've given thought to writing it down and pub-" Samantha began.
"No. The actual story of Venn and Alken. The kingdoms. They were both founded by the same man, but collapsed. Rivalry, and spite. Two things you humans seem to hold so dear. The Old Iron King was not so old, back then. Nor was he a King, quite yet. He was a frail, uninteresting man, with a frail, uninteresting army." The Darkwraith explained.
"And? What is the point of this story?" Regina asked impatiently.
"He conquered Alken with the help of a powerful ally. He was inspired, and found a great soul. The soul of great Lord. He went from a dull, frail thing to a man worth his weight in… Iron." The creature of Dark continued.
"So?" Samantha asked.
The Darkwraith simply chuckled.
"Just a story. I'm sure it doesn't mean anything." He said.
While the heat was sweltering, even more so than in the rest of the tower, Samantha Regina could only stare, slack-jawed, at the marvel of machinery powering the various lights and elevators inside of the tower.
"Those massive suits of armor… The lifts… The power… The Iron King was a visionary! If only we could have met, under better circumstances! If only I could have been his Queen!" The Witch exclaimed.
The Darkwraith chuckled, far less impressed after hundreds of years of seeing marvels rise and fall.
"A sentiment shared by the Bride of Ash, no doubt. You heard her name, didn't you? She's like the other three. Dark Queens." He speculated.
"Three? There was the Squalid Queen in my Kingdom of Shulva… Nashandra, of Drangleic? But what of the last?" Samantha asked.
"Four shards of Manus, all seeking to rule in their own way. If only one could absorb all of their souls and become the Father perfected…" The Darkwraith said, ignoring his companion's inquiry.
"Beast! These dark depths are cursed! Take the Iron, find the thing inside, and destroy it. I command you, as heir apparent of this land." Regina ordered.
The Darkwraith sighed, preparing his greatsword and greatshield, limbering up a bit.
"Never a dull moment, at least." He said, charging into the darkness.
"I'm aware robbing bodies of their attire may be in bad taste, but it will be our little secret, yes?" Samantha asked, making sure the new outfit was properly affixed, finding it, surprisingly, a bit tight.
"Proper Assassin attire. The garb of Sorceress Assassins, no less. I couldn't have thought up a better outfit for you, my little darkling." The Darkwraith said.
"Your little darkling? I'm aware I am the picture of beauty and charm, but that is a tad romantic, no?" Samantha asked, leaving the mask behind.
"If you are to take the role of the Dark's new Mother, then would it be improper of me to love you?" The Darkwraith retorted.
"Hm. Queen of the Dark. Samantha Regina, Mother of the Abyss. Yes, I think I like the ring to that. I like that very much." The Dark Magus said, nodding in approval.
"Face me, Bride of Ash! Come out from your effigies! I have left enough of your Soul for you to die in combat!" Samantha shouted, her confidence bolstered by the strength of her companion.
In response, dark gathered, and a mighty armored warrior burst from the ground, a longsword in one hand, and picking up a mighty greatsword with the other.
"A Champion of Dark? Child's play. Come, Beast. Let us allow him to be one, with the Dark." Samantha said.
Samantha held her shield up, but the mighty, crashing blow splintered the bone in her arm, and sending her rather mundane shield into the ash in pieces. He was poised for the killing blow. A stab, but too slow. Samantha disappeared into a puff of smoke, re-appearing several feet to the side, panting. Her forehead was slick with sweat, and the normally neat bun on the back of her head was mostly undone, bits of her clothes torn, and burnt.
"Beast! Retreat! Her Champion is too strong! We will regroup!" Regina barked, disappearing and re-appearing once more in order to evade another attack.
"It isn't fair! She's cheating! She's using him as a shield! Appointing some impossible champion as a guard is hardly honorable!" Samantha shouted, enraged and humiliated.
"His name is Raime, you should recognize him from old tales. Stop squirming, my little darkling. Moving now will hurt your arm more than it is already. At least let me bandage you before you go breaking things." The Darkwraith said, applying some rudimentary first-aid to his master.
"Just give me my Estus Flask! Bandages are pointless!" She shouted.
"Not yet. It's time you learned from pain. It will make you stronger. This anger and hatred will give you what you need to defeat him." The impromptu medic advised, having learned from his own torture long ago, at the hands of a mad mage in a forgotten manor.
"And how are we expected to defeat him, hm? How is that even a challenge!? He's too strong! Too fast! My dark magic hardly put a dent in him!" Samantha continued, as angry as ever.
"The Bride is not terribly interested in fairness, my future Queen. She wants us dead, and out of her tower. Her Champion will see her protected, and the undead and effigies will see her will done." The Darkwraith stated, hardly phased by the defeat, and seemingly invincible foe ahead of them.
"No. I will not die, and neither will you. We will defeat him, it can be done. If Gods can bleed, Champions can be killed. I will see him at my feet, and I will have Nadalia watch. Then, she dies. She has made an enemy of me, on this day, and she will know that I am the true heir to darkness when I shove my blade into her throat." Regina growled, the darkness inside of her only growing more eager with the exposure to the challenge.
The Darkwraith grinned in approval. She would make a fine Dark Lord indeed.
A series of puffs of smoke were left in Regina's trail as she continued to evade and counter attack. She was vicious, lunging forward with her sword before blasting with her chime. Her arm was hurt, but it could still carry a bell, and ring it. Each ringing was followed by a powerful and consuming blast of dark, Nadalia's Champion equally aggressive, lacking a shield himself. It was a long and desperate battle, each combatant alone, and refusing to back down.
He lost.
Regina swung so hard that her Darksword shattered, and the final dark blast she gave was all the energy she had left. All the same, the legend, Raime the Rebel, was dead. Samantha Regina stood triumphant, retrieving his soul and marching forward, out of the kiln and into the throne.
There sat Nadalia, Bride of Ash. Or, at least, what was left of her. A lifeless, soulless husk. She had abandoned her solid form years and years ago.
Yet, on her head sat the crown. A menacing looking hunk of iron, lost by the Old Iron King, and taken from Vendrick.
Now, it belonged to Regina.
She snatched it and placed it on her head. It was a bit large for her thin face, but all the same, she had earned it. She then gave Nadalia what she felt she deserved.
Samantha spat on the husk, frowning deeply.
"You are worthless. You are no true Queen. No worthy Bride. He deserved better. They both did. You are a coward, and you will know my superiority when I find the rest of your soul, and devour it."
"I have returned. Raime is dead, and Nadalia is fully aware of my intentions, if she was not before." Samantha stated, walking off of the large iron elevator.
"Impressive. I hadn't expected you to come back. With a crown, no less." The Darkwraith replied.
"I have won. I have conquered. Nadalia has lost. I am the Queen of the Iron Keep, and the Harvest Valley. It is all mine, now." Regina said, feeling triumphant, despite the throbbing pain in her arm.
"And are you content with that?" The Darkwraith asked.
"No. I'm not. I want Nadalia's soul. I want to consume it, and find a truer dark. I wish to become Mother of the Abyss." Regina replied, finding new purpose.
"Good. Have your Estus, and we'll find you a new sword. Our work here isn't done." The Darkwraith replied.
Yes, she would make a fine Dark Lord, he thought. A fine Dark Lord indeed.