Lydia sat in the Kiln of the First Flame, staring into the fire that burned at the heart of the world. Dying now, little more than embers. It had been for longer than she'd been alive, but they were so faint now, so few. The death of Lord Gwyn had only served to further weaken the tenuous link the fire had left with the world.
The Age of Gods was ending. It had been for decades. Perhaps it had been all along, and it was only now that it had caught up with where it was supposed to be. Soon, as the serpent had explained to her, the First Flame would die, reduced to ashes, and the Age of Man would dawn. Lydia could return to her home a god, rather than the shame she'd been when she was hounded out. The touch of the Darksign, curse of the undead, was enough to turn even her closest friends against, and they'd thrown her into the Undead Asylum. But how she'd grown since then. She'd changed. From a lowly undead, cursed like the others in the cells next to hers, to the Chosen Undead and bearer of the Lordvessel. The same Lordvessel that sat next to her, unused. And now she was beyond even Chosen Undead. She was the Dark Lord of mankind, the ruler of a world where the gods had faded and died. Many of them under her sword. Ornstein and Smough. Gwyndolin. Even Gwyn himself.
It had been her only choice. She was the Chosen Undead, born and cursed so that she might collect the souls of Lords and bring them to the First Flame. And there she was destined to throw herself into the fire with the souls, so that she might prolong the stagnant, tortured Age of Gods so that in a thousand years, somebody else might do the same, all at the expense of, not her life, but something far worse. A cycle that would repeat endlessly so that the gods could continue to do nothing but watch over a ruined world, and humanity could do nothing but pretend to thrive and silently dread the return of the curse. But no more. For more than half her journey, she'd kept her true goal hidden from all. The Knight, the Firekeeper, Solaire, even the Kingseeker. All along, they had thought linking the Fire was what had kept her going, what had prevented her from turning hollow. Only Kaathe had known the truth. She journeyed to the Kiln of the First Flame not so she could link it, but so she could guard it from others hoping to do so. She hunted the Lords not so she would have their souls for the Flame, but so she could keep them from others. All her work would be for naught if, after she was gone, some pretender to the title of Chosen Undead undid all her work and prolonged the Age of Fire. No, she would have to wait, staring at the ashes of the Flame until she could be sure they had burned down one final time.
Lydia knew not how long she sat there, staring into the slowly dwindling flame, but she was roused by the sound of combat outside. Steel on steel, and grunts of pain. For the first time in her life, Lydia found herself praying for the Black Knights to be victorious. Knowing what she had to do and why she had to do it wouldn't make the task any easier. Still, in anticipation, she took up her sword, a great claymore, and her shield, and stood with her back to the flame. The fighting sounded every bit as intense, and closer. Could the champion, whoever it was, break through? For the longest moment, no sound came from the fight, and then there was a clatter and a thud; the sound of an armoured body hitting the ground. Who had won? Would she be in for a fight? Another long second, and Lydia's heart fell as a figure stepped through. It was only a fraction of the pain she would feel, however, as she took in who the champion was. Steel armour, white cloth with a red sun, and a sword and shield. Her friend and onetime travel companion: Knight Solaire of Astora.
The Warrior of Sunlight stepped into the room poised to attack with his shield raised, and a warcry on his lips. He had clearly lost his helmet along the way. When he saw the lone occupant, however, the valiant knight paused and lowered the shield, his cry replaced with a faint smile that Lydia wished she could return.
"You made it," He said, his voice faintly awed. "Are you hurt?"
Lydia willed herself to speak, to say something, anything to him, but there were no words. He frowned at her.
"Lydia?"
Finally, she willed her lips to move.
"Solaire."
That one word was enough to bring a fresh smile to the knight's lips, and he took a few steps closer, halving the distance between them.
"You did it, Lydia. You linked the Fire. You…." He almost choked. "You saved the world. Do you know what this means?"
Lydia remained silent again, but this time Solaire didn't seem to need prompting.
"We can rebuild. We can….We can go back to how things used to be. You can return home, I can find my sun. We're finished now. We're done."
His voice, so much more warming and inspiring than Kaathe's, but so less helpful. A voice she wished she could listen to for hours. But she knew, as much as she'd allowed him to inspire her, as much as they'd traded thoughts and ideas, that he would never understand. He'd never let her sway him from his path. A man's determination was all that stopped him from going Hollow, and having lost his sun, the Flame had been all that was keeping him going. It was something too deeply embedded for him to be deterred from it. Solaire was still talking, being jubilant about their victory, but he was wrong. It was Kaathe's victory, it was Lydia's victory, but it wasn't his. Finally, as Lydia had known they must, his eyes flickered from her to the First Flame, and she saw the doubt in his eyes.
"It looks….like ashes," He said, "I thought it would….." He trailed off again, and the confusion was apparent in his voice. "Did you do it? You must have. Perhaps it…" But he had no explanation.
"I'm sorry," Lydia whispered, and she saw his face pale. Puzzlement fought concern across his features. Not a single undead knew what they would have to do when the time came to link the Fire. Only Lydia knew the horror of what would have awaited her if she'd gone through with it. If Solaire had known, would he have still expected her to? Did his devotion to the cause outweigh his devotion to her?
"You couldn't do it?" Solaire asked, and his voice was gentler than Lydia had any right to hope it would be. He looked down, and she knew his gaze was on the Lordvessel by her feet. "Then give me the Lordvessel, and I will face what comes." Still the same quiet, understanding, concerned tone. She didn't deserve it, especially not from him. No move was made to do as the Sunlight Warrior asked, so he held out his hand. "It's okay Lydia. Give it to me."
"I can't," Was all she could bring herself to say to him. It was obvious what she was going to have to do, Another moment passed, and there was a new hardness in Solaire's tone as he spoke again, something that there had never been before.
"Give me the Lordvessel."
"I won't let you do this. I can't." It wasn't with the voice of the Chosen Undead that Lydia said the sentence, but the voice of the scared young woman who'd found herself in Lordran with nothing and nobody.
"Give it to me!" For the first time since she'd known him, Solaire bellowed. Not yelled to her in a panic or in pain, not shouted a warning, but bellowed, and Lydia could see that if she'd ever had any chance to persuade him, it was gone.
"No," She said, fighting a tremor in her voice, and then stepped forwards, bringing her sword down in an arc before she had time to doubt herself.
With the instincts of a trained warrior, Solaire brought his shield up to catch the blow, but rather than retaliate, he looked Lydia full in the face. His eyes were full of betrayal and pain, but also a cold resolve that chilled Lydia to the core.
"I too am sorry," He said, and then forced her sword arm back with his shield, throwing her off-balance. Almost faster than Lydia could see, he closed the distance between them and swung his own shorter sword, and it was only her hastily raised shield that protected her. His sword had barely touched her shield before he withdrew it, and they regarded each other. For weeks now they had travelled together and fought alongside each other, learning to work as one. And now that one was divided.
Before he got the chance to strike again, Lydia stepped backwards and thrust, A blow that she knew had no chance to make contact, but it forced him to step backwards. When they'd first met, he'd teased her, saying her claymore was a big sword for a small woman, but now, in this unthinkable situation, it gave her a much needed edge in terms of range. Solaire would have to get close to her to strike, so it became her priority to keep him away. However, practically the second she'd extended her sword, the Warrior of Sunlight slipped to one side and brought his own blade down on hers with a sharp clang. He'd perhaps intended to disarm her, but as heavy as her sword was, she was more skilled than that. He moved to step forwards again, but Lydia kicked out, catching him in the abdomen and forcing him to stumble back, off-balance. One didn't get to be the leader of the Warriors of Sunlight by being so easily caught off-guard, however, and as she moved to capitalise on her advantage, bringing her sword round to chop at his side, he used his shield to parry her sword to one side and thrust. It was only Lydia's reflexes that saved her, as she twisted to one side and saw the blade pass her throat. It was then that she realised, once and for all, what the stakes of this fight were. Her knight and dearest friend had just levelled a lethal blow at her. In this duel, they were fighting to kill.
Solaire showed none of the hesitation Lydia did, momentarily paralysed by shock and betrayal, and almost as soon as his first strike missed, he brought his blade back round to strike her in the ribs. Both Lydia's sword and shield were too far to block, and even through her armour she felt the impact of the Sunlight Warrior's sword. Solaire had always been strong, and the past few weeks had only served to enhance that, and the strike made her take one step to the side. Her next swing was hasty and unpolished, and once again he swung his shield out to parry. This time, however, the force of the impact knocked her claymore loose from her grip, and the weapon skidded across the floor. Seeing his opponent unarmed, Solaire dropped his shield to grip his sword with both hands, and when Lydia looked into his eyes, she couldn't see the warm, likeable man she'd travelled with. She only saw a desperate warrior who had to remove one last obstacle that lay between him and his goal.
Going for her sword again would be tantamount to suicide, so Lydia instead stepped close and put both hands behind her shield, using it as a ram to shove. It caught Solaire in the chest, below his arms, and he grunted as he was once again pushed away. He swung his longsword, and Lydia was forced to raise the shield to protect her face from the blade's cruel edges. He swung again, and again, and Lydia was helpless to do anything but block. Her opportunity came when Solaire, seeking a gap in her defences, went to stab his sword forward at Lydia's chest. She lowered the shield, but his sword punched clean through it, the blade only stopping when it hit her armour. Despite Lydia's hope that it would be stuck, the knight pulled the blade free, and Lydia tossed the now ruined shield aside. Unarmed, she waited for him to swing and moved, darting within an inch of the sword tip as she spun and got close, grabbing the hilt of the sword and trying to wrest it away from him. When he'd heard, back in the Undead Parish, that Lydia was something of a brawler, Solaire had laughed and wondered what use punching Hollows would be. Lydia had taught him the basics whenever they'd taken a rest, but she'd hardly shown him everything. Solaire tried to grapple over the sword with her, his two hands against her one, so she stepped even closer and slammed an armoured knee between his legs. His codpiece absorbed most of the impact, but the pain on the face of the Warrior of Sunlight was unmistakeable. Not even that made him let go of the word however, and they continued to grapple. Eventually, however, his superior grip allowed him to tear the sword free. Before any thought of protecting herself could even enter her mind, Lydia was struck across the face by the pommel, the heavy metal striking her unarmoured cheek. She staggered, pain and white light flashing behind her eyes, and a harsh kick from the knight sent her crashing into a wall and onto the floor.
As she struggled through the haze of pain to pull herself to her feet, Lydia saw Solaire move towards the Lordvessel, miraculously undisturbed by their combat, and bent to pick it up. As soon as it was in his hand, he took a step towards the Flame, and his intention was obvious. With a herculean effort, Lydia forced herself to her feet, but it was not with the panic of a guardian failing her charge that she ran, but with the fear of a friend about to watch someone dear to her sacrifice himself to a fate worse than death.
"No!" She roared, and careened into her once-dear friend. The two of them hit the floor with a mighty crash. His sword went skittering along the ground, but, unfazed, Solaire hit at Lydia's head with an elbow. She raised a steel-clad arm to absorb the blow, and sent her fist crashing into his unarmed stomach again and again. The brave knight's face contorted in pain, but Lydia refused to let it faze her as she drew her fist back again. Before she could punch, however, she felt him lock his knees against her chest and thrust, and she was sent flying through the air.
She hit the ground inches from the ashes of the Flame and, despite how low it had burned, she could still feel the heat like an oven against her. She rolled away from the fire, her armour blackened by ash, and lifted herself onto one knee. Opposite her, Solaire was shakily getting to his feet, blood trickling from his nose. In any other fight, he might have thrown himself back into the fray, but this fight had taken a lot out of him. Out of them both, actually. Other fights on their journey had been hard. Ornstein and Smough had been two warriors of unparalleled might, and had tested them like no other had before, and Nito had left Lydia dead for so long that Solaire feared she had gone Hollow, but this, as strong as they both were, wasn't just painful physically. It felt like every blow that struck either of their bodies bruised her soul as well, and both were battered raw. Every step ached. To her surprise, however, Solaire didn't brush aside his reservations and continue the fight the second she rose to her feet.
"It doesn't have to end this way, Lydia," He said, and she could hear the plea in his voice. Ignoring that plea would once and for all seal Lydia's fate in a way that refusing to link the fire and refusing to hand him the Lordvessel had. If she rejected this, the battle would not end until one of them lay dead. Upon getting no response, he tried again. "I don't know what happened, what you saw in this place, but we can undo it. The Flame has to be relit. We've known this the whole time. Without it, the world will die."
Hearing him speak, the hope, the desperation, it made the impossible decision even harder.
"You're wrong." The words were barely above a whisper, but Solaire's expression made it obvious that he had heard.
Lydia thought she had grown used to his speed, his strength, but somehow, even with the beating he had sustained, he closed the distance between them in seconds, and his fist glanced off her hip before finding a target in her stomach. Even through her armour, the impact nearly made her double over, but she was able to lock her hands around his fist before his next blow could strike her face. The knight moved to pull away, but Lydia pulled him in close and slammed her knee between his legs again, before throwing him to one side. He stumbled and nearly fell, but as she moved to close the distance again, slowed by the limits of her aching body, his fist crashed into her chest. She moved to respond in kind, and the fight entered a new stage. It was a world away from the elegant and desperate sword duel, and it wasn't even the measured blow-to-blow exchange that had come before. This was something ugly and brutal. Any pretense of finesse was lost as the Chosen Undead and the Warrior of Sunlight punched, kicked and clawed, trying to match each other in viciousness. He wrenched her arm, and she swept a leg out from underneath him. Tearing out a chunk of his hair was met with ripping at her ear. They clawed at faces and slammed each other against walls, and the fight continued at that pace, the two of them slowly taking each other to pieces, until her fist caught him in the mouth. The steel hit bone and several teeth were sent scattering across the floor as Solaire cried out in agony.
Despite herself, Lydia hesitated, hardly able to believe what she'd done as the ruined knight looked up at her, half a row of teeth gone and the rest stained crimson with blood. But she was too far gone to turn back now, so she swung again, catching him on the chin and throwing his head back. He cried out again, and Lydia stepped forwards, before smashing her foot into his knee. There was a loud snap, and every scream just added to the loathing Lydia felt for herself. He'd risked his life for her, endured unbelievable pain so she wouldn't, and now she was returning it tenfold. Her hands searched for the straps of his armour, and she used them to haul him to his feet, before throwing him back again again. He hit the wall face-first, and when he fell to the floor, he didn't get back up. As Lydia knelt and turned him over, she both hoped with all her heart that he was alive, and prayed he wasn't. If he was dead, then she'd betrayed her only friend, done terrible things in the name of a better world. If he was alive, then she would have to do so much worse. For a second that lasted an eternity, the Sunlight Warrior lay still, and she dared to think it might be over, but then he coughed, a bubble of blood bursting on his lips, and his eyes flickered open.
"You could have been fantastic…" He wheezed, and Lydia could hear the pain he felt saying even that short sentence, and it sickened her. She had to end the cycle, fix the wrecked and dying world, but did it have to hurt so? If only Solaire had been able to see what she'd seen. If only Kaathe had come to him as well. This could all have been averted.
Lydia couldn't bring herself to reply to him. Any words would just make it worse. Practically shuffling, and hunched over from the pain in her ribs, she almost dragged herself over to where her claymore lay. It felt like aeons ago it had been knocked from her hand at the beginning of the fight, but to use Solaire's own sword would be barbaric. It was with aching arms and a pained heart that she brought the greatsword over, dragging it along the stone floor of the Kiln with a screech. It wasn't the Chosen Undead who lifted the sword and held it over the head of her fallen enemy. It was a woman with cracked ribs, a ruined ear and blood streaking down her face who stood over her dearest friend, ruined in more ways than one by the minutes of bloodshed.
"Lydia," Solaire gasped, but there was no fear in his eyes, just resignation and confusion mingled with pain. "I…."
"I'm sorry!" Lydia almost shouted. He couldn't finish the sentence. If he did, she'd drop the sword, let him do as he wished and damn the world to a slow death prolonged only by endless suffering. She couldn't let him. The sword was thrust down, and the light faded from the eyes of the first and greatest Warrior of Sunlight as his life poured out of him, impaled through the neck.
A single scream couldn't contain a fraction of the pain and rage coursing through Lydia, so she didn't limit herself. For untold hours, it felt like, she roared, until her throat burned raw and her voice faded to a hollow rasp. She knew she had to do something. Solaire would rise again, no matter how firmly she'd crushed his resolve with her last brutal act, and it felt like even a Hollow could best her now. But for now, she could only stare at the broken and ruined corpse of her friend, and wonder if, after all, it would have been better to ignore Kaathe and throw herself into the flames.