Hey everyone I'm back and I should be back until college drags me away in a few months. Until then have the beginning of a long story based around seath's original soul being separated from the one we obtain. Please tell me what you think

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Many eons have passed from the time of Seath and yet no scholar after him was able to perfect the immortality that he so marvelously mastered. From the best mage to the most powerful god, all of them were unable to reform the secretive crystal that kept that paledrake alive. And so the story faded, and the tale of that scaleless dragon was lost to time. That story was lost, to all but one lone human, who had found that shattered crystal among the remnants of the dragon's lair. That human, who had seen the sparkle within the shattered fractals, the one who found the fire. Much like the pigmy, all those years ago, the human took up the fading flame of a soul and listened to its whispers, to its secrets, to its voice...

And the rest was history

The bodies burned like torches in the long night, their flesh the only thing that kept the ever encroaching darkness from finally overtaking the world.

"I wonder what it is this time," the young man asked himself softly, looking out his tinted window. Outside, a knight was wandering the street, his empty eyes not realizing that it was his flesh that was burning this time. The man sighed before he turned back to his spellbook, trying to get back to his studies despite the broken souls that wandered Lothric's streets at night. On the wooden desk a single candle sat burning. The golding spark passionately blazed despite the cold outside and the dark that had seemed to take the world every time the tiring sun set. The particular spell he was focused on this night was a personal favorite of his, having found its original copy when he raided the archives, all those years ago.

"The archives," he mused with a smile. "Remember them?"

The young man pulled on a small chain that hung around his neck, bringing the tiny necklace from under his shirt to meet his face . The crystal at the bottom of the chain blazed as its owner held its power, its brilliant blue energy warming him in the dark of night. As he looked further in, he once again saw the small speck of a flame among the endless fractals, the flame of a soul.

"Why do you continue to marvel at something that you can't improve?" Seath asked from within the fragile prison. He had asked the question hundreds of times over the life the two had shared but he wondered all the same, having never been pleased with the answer.

"Because I love it," Salvus said with a smile, turning in the old chair to face the bookshelf that filled the wall behind him. It had been eons since the immortal had as much fun as he did with the books of this cycle.

Even though his human could not hear it Seath sighed, having not been answered once again. He had longed for magic because of his lust for immortality but now that he had it, all the books did nothing for his forlorn soul. "Crystal soul spear?" the shard asked, knowing the answer but indulging the human out of respect.

"Elegant isn't it," Salvus marveled, glancing to the intricate set of runes that circled a singular point on the page. By letting the magic twist around an axis it allows the fragments of nearby soul energy to form, creating crystals. All crystal magic worked in a similar way, calling the native power of the world to do the work so caster didn't have to. This is not to say that the spells were the most effective though. In places devoid of native soul energy the magic did almost nothing. While the human marveled over the spell he failed to notice the second set of footsteps that appeared outside.

*BOOM*

"What in the hells was that?" Seath cursed, the magic the brilliant shard eminanted pulsing.

Salvus was also shaken by the sudden clanging of steel on steel but for a very different reason. Jerking up, the human's brilliant blue eyes looked out of his tinted window at just the right time to see a silhouette of a mysterious figure whose sword was hilt deep in the back of the wandering knight. About the same size as himself, the outline of the figure was instantly familiar to the man, as it wore the armor that they always wore, those ill fated knights of Astora. With a tug and a snarl the sword came free from the mass of flesh and metal it had been lodged in, bringing with it a mass of filth and blood. Even in the dark and the tint of the window Salvus could easily see the helm that adorned the assailant as it reflected the last cinders of the burning corpse. Salvus took a brief second to take in the macabre picture of the shimmering knight standing over the burning corpse.

"You're thinking of going out there, aren't you?" Seath asked, knowing even before he received the answer that he was once again resigned to a foolish quest of the human's design.

"That's the third one in the last month," Salvus said, ignoring the exasperated question from the crystal that hung from the titanite chain around his neck. "Its got to be getting close to the reset."

Seath sighed once again. He knew the human was right but he hated the foolishness that surrounded his actions. He wasn't just putting his own life in danger either. If anyone took his soul… the paledrake's fire shuddered, knowing how easily he could have been crushed under the frail hand of that pygmy. Moving away from his long overdue death, the dragon thought to the work ahead of him and his prison slightly brightened. He would never admit that he somewhat enjoyed the human's unpredictability but still Salvus knew. Eons attached to each other did that to a person.

Ignoring the silence of the dragon, human stood, readying himself.

Anri yanked the sword out of the undead knights spine, whispering a small prayer to the lords as the lost soul granted her it's power. It was unpleasant work but it needed to be done if Aldrich was to fall. It was night once again in Lothric, the sun having once again surrendered to twilight's embrace. The slim street she found herself on was hidden from the rest of the castle, behind three curving alleys and an illusionary wall. There was only one door on the dead end street that wasn't boarded up but she had assumed it was like all the others in the jungle of stone and oak, barred from the other side and empty of anything valuable. She found it quite odd that someone would go to such lengths to hide such an unremarkable place but she soon shook it off, realizing that it was yet another thing about the confusing puzzle of a world that she would never know.

"Greetings traveler!" a voice called from behind her, causing the poorly trained knight to jump and swing her sword around to meet the new two figures faced each other in the dim alley, the only light coming from the smoldering remains of the man she had just put to rest. On one side of the street, an armored knight clung desperately to her poorly crafted sword. Her fearful brown eyes panicked as the undetected figure came out of the dark doorway.

On the other side of the street, a young man, not older than herself stood awaiting some response. He was garbed in a brilliant blue and black robe, one which sparkled under the light of the corpse and it ignored the years it had spent in his closet. Attached to his waist, the man had a small wooden rod and a large, silver-covered, tome. The wooden rod was charred and twisted at its top, both results of the powerful magic the chunk of wood had channeled over its long life. The face of the man was unscaved from the horrors that long haunted over the world. The innocence in the man's face and voice startled her more than his sudden appearance. No one was that happy, not anymore.

"Sorry about that," the man said again, noticing that he startled the knight.

"You're going to get stabbed next time," the gem that brushed against his skin under his robe chastised.

"Oh. you're sane," the woman said with a sigh of relief, hoping her own words rang true ash she said them. "I'm sorry. I didn't know there were other unkindled in the area," she followed quickly. Looking over the odd man she found in front of her with an appraising eye, the knight easily picked out the mage's catalyst and his spellbook among his gear. Both items made her shudder slightly under the armor, there were bad memories caused from similar people in the past. Casters were always the worst of them, always scheming, always up to something, even if they weren't like Aldrich. Anri didn't show her disgust though, there were not enough people left in the world to be picky about company.

On the of the street Salvus thought back to his own demons as the female knight began but locked them away quickly then the knight did and put back on the lighthearted spirit he tried so hard to keep. Salvus chuckled as she finished her sentence, thinking about all the times he had seen knights of Astora like her on their journeys, all of them in that same armor. He wondered what the response would be this time, awe, jealousy, hatred? "Well.. about that…" he said, knowing he would sound insane to her. "I'm not unkindled... Not even undead."

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"I'll stick you in my prayers. A fine dark soul, to you."