A faint sun shone over empty city streets. A fading light dissipating for the incoming darkness of the night. No one roamed these streets during the hour, for all remained inside. All, except a group of children, playing with dolls and a music box. Blissfully and ignorant, they played a game with their dolls, tuning it with the music from the box. What was this game they were playing? Truth to be told, they didn't know themselves. They acted without thinking why they were playing in that manner, because it was nothing more than simply fun. There was no point to ask why, since the children were content.

However, there was one who was not content. The oldest child resented the game. It meant nothing and served no purpose besides mindless fun. To be confined to this drivel was something the child wanted no part of. This one wanted to do something else. Something that children like themselves shouldn't do. The child suggested it to the rest of the kids, but they did not agree. In retaliation, the oldest kicked the music box, creating a crack where the cogs fell out. The oldest didn't want to be small. It wanted to grow.

It was then the child realised that the other children were gone. Their toys were left behind, torn apart into many pieces. The child looked around and neither saw nor heard anyone else. The town was devoid of anything besides themselves, except for the sound of boots stepping on the cold stone streets. Looking up, the little one saw someone tall in a long coat with his face hidden with a scarf mask. That someone also wore a cap, fashioned by the withered feathers on its back. The sun was right behind the individual, so only the silhouette could be observed. In fact, it was not even certain if it was a man or a woman who stood there. No movement was made between the two and they only stared at each other. It was as if there was a connection between the two of them. A connection that could only be described as 'seeing your own reflection'.

Suddenly, the clanking of a large clock-tower bell was heard. The sun disappeared completely, replaced by a bright red moon. The red light revealed the real insides of the dolls. The cotton took the shape of guts with thick red blood spilling from their torn limbs. The cogs from the music box were now eyes, still twitching as if they were inside an eye socket. The child looked at the mysterious one, whose coat was then soaked in thick blood. The stranger held out a hand for the child, gently like an angel. There was no concern in their mind, even though the stranger appeared as nightmarish as the rest of the world. Underneath it all, the child felt a sympathetic spirit. Obliging, the young one reached out for the gentle hand. Yet as their own hand came into their view, all the child saw was the hand of a burning beast.

...

The dream was over and you were in the waking world of men, where you belong. On the other hand, you could barely tell the dream and the real world apart anymore. For a whole fortnight, you were inside a cell with no light for comfort. There was nothing but darkness. You did not even know the difference of being awake and asleep. You couldn't even remember the light, let alone the places you've been to or the faces of the people you love. You were imprisoned for far too long, and your mind started to embrace the madness. All you had… was blood.

You were in the Northern Asylum of the Ailing, a place for the blood-crazed. Here, the ones who had too much of sweet euphoria of the blood were locked up and left to decay. In truth, it was the asylum itself that created these madmen. The inmates were normal people, until taken here and given nothing else but the sweet blood. It was a research lab in the guise of an asylum. You were tied to this place, imprisoned with those who were already lost. This was your fate.

Unable to be guided by light, you used your hand to search in a midst of empty vials. You looked at one after the other, but they were all empty. Words of dread repeated in your head. It cannot be, it cannot be. You started to panic, but fortunately for you, you grasped a vial with sufficient weight to it to imply it was not empty. Thank the gods, you thought. The needle was still attached to the vial, so you thrusted the needle into your right leg and injected the blood contained in the vial. The momentary pain of the needle was overshadowed by the sweet relief of the healing blood. Intoxicated, your consciousness drifted into sleep again. The rest of your body became numb as you fell over to your right. You wanted no more dreams. No more awakenings. You just wanted oblivion.

Before your eyes could close, a small faint light creeped under the door cell. That was not all, because the light came with the sound of a deep moaning voice. The light took the shape of a child, crawling out of the door gap. The little being with wrinkled stark white skin gradually pulled himself towards you, moaning as he went. Panic entered your mind again, but the numbness of your body didn't even allow you to scream. Before you knew it, more of these little ones appeared, crawling over your stiff and vulnerable body. They all gathered in front of your eyes and looked at you with expressions that told you that they yearned for you. You desperately struggled to move, but it mattered not, for your consciousness wandered into another slumber. As your eyes succumbed to the darkness of your eyelids, a voice of a young maiden echoed in your mind.

"…A new hunter? I'm so sorry."

...

The sound of cracking wood from the cell door awoke you from your sleep. The numbness had left your body, but you were too weak and tired to move again. The cell door burst itself open with a dead body thrown down at the entrance to your cell. The dead man was twice as big as the average man, with overgrown hair that covered his face, bandages wrapped around his right eye and a mouth with dirty and large bucked teeth. You looked above the corpse and saw the one responsible. All you could see was a man. Anything else about him was masked by the darkness of the dungeon that eclipsed the light of the torch he held in his right hand. His left hand held a meat cleaver, stained most likely in the blood of the corpse on the floor. The man threw the cleaver down near your hands.

"Find yourself an exit and meet me in the courtyard. You'll be leaving the asylum tonight." The man said, leaving you behind as he left the cell and continued onwards.

Someone appeared to be helping you, but it reeked with suspicion. Why would a stranger risk himself for another stranger like you? However, you didn't even consider the option to stay in cell as you had for weeks. Wherever the man would lead you, it couldn't be worse than this.

You picked up the cleaver and stepped outside your cell. For someone who has been depraved of light as long as you, the lanterns outside strained your eyes. As you started to adjust to your surroundings, you noticed more cell doors were open, meaning you were not the only one who was freed by that man. The smell of blood was everywhere thanks to the amount of corpses scattered throughout the hall. Normally, it would've been a foul stench, but to you, the smell was like flowers. You observed you surroundings to see if anyone was still around or if anyone was coming. There was no one there, so you walked towards to the left exit.

The door was already open, meaning this was where the stranger from earlier went to. When you opened it, a stronger light greeted you, putting more strain to your already weak eyes. Once you became used to the light, you could see a large chandelier lighting up the main hall. You looked around and noticed that you are on the upper floor of the building, so you had to find the stair leading down. Just as you walked out of the door, you could hear the cries from fellow inmates. You couldn't see them, but their words were harrowing.

"The Church is good to us. They'll take care of us."

"Death to outsiders. Beasts, all of them. Death to outsiders."

"Blood crazed fiends, the hunters."

"Bless us. Bless us, sisters of the blood."

You could've been one of them. A rambling lunatic deprived of all the care in the world, left to rot in an asylum in middle of nowhere. You were free for the moment, but it would mean nothing until you left this place alive. You watched your left and found the stairs that led to the main hall below, so you walked there and travelled each step down. While you went down, a thought occurred to you. Where were the rest of the escaping inmates? They all left before you, so why couldn't you hear people outside their cells? Maybe they were already outside, since you were the last one to leave. Although, it also made you wonder where the asylum staff where. Once you were downstairs, you saw the reason for your loneliness. Dozens of mangled corpses where spread everywhere, along with pools of blood painting the floor and walls. The victims were fellow inmates and members of the staff. Was it the stranger who did it, or something else? That question was answered immediately, with the noise of a swinging chandelier. You looked up and saw a large beast resembling a man and wolf hybrid hanging from that chandelier. With its strength and weight, it tore the giant luminaire down from the ceiling. As it crashed on the floor, it took its light with it, leaving you alone in the dark with a man-eating beast.

Your heart was pounding fast and your ears could hear the growling. You saw the faint lights from the windows near the entrance to the asylum, but you did not dare to move with that creature on the loose. You had a weapon, but what good would it do to something capable of mass slaughter? You had to escape, for the beast would find you if you didn't. To avoid making any sound to give away your location to the beast, you slowly moved your feet. It seemed to be occupied with feasting on the remains of an asylum employee, so it would not notice you if you stayed silent. Alas, upon your sixth step, you felt your foot stepping on broken glass. The beast stopped eating and it knew where you were. The sound of heavy growls and breathing came closer and closer, till you felt its breath above your head. You closed your eyes, hoping at the very least for a swift death. Then, both you and the beast heard a voice.

"Please… h… h-help… me."

Someone was still alive, prompting the beast to run past you and attack the survivor. You were saved, but at the cost of another's life. The survivor screamed and cried for help as the beast ripped his flesh apart from his bones. This was your chance. You decided to take the risk and ran to the door, perpetually breaking glass on the way. You made it to the exit, but it was locked. Knowing that the beast might be right behind you, since the screaming stopped, you gathered what little strength you had left and slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn't budge, so you tried again. Again and again, until the fifth try broke it open. You just kept on running as fast as you could, not thinking where you're going, not thinking of what was behind you. Just as you thought you made it, you felt the giant claws grasping at your back. The beast was so much faster. You reacted quickly and plunged the cleaver into the top of the creature's skull, but it only flinched and ensued to slam you to the ground, breaking your body upon the impact. The beast stared down at its victim, with saliva and blood pouring down from his mouth onto your face. Its jaws opened wide as it prepared to bite your head off. You were too weak to fight back. What chance did you have?

Yet hope came with the sound of a blunderbuss. A hail of bullets descended upon the beast with such fury that it was beaten back by the sheer force. Once it was out of reach of its prey, a Molotov cocktail came flying and coated the beast in flames. As it howled in agony, the fire burned every inch of its flesh, like the fire was some form of purification, before it finally killed it. You were saved from death once again. You looked to your side to gaze upon your saviour and saw that it was the stranger from earlier. The man bowed down, took out a blood vial from his bag and injected it into your veins. The broken body of yours felt the healing from the blood and your strength was regaining.

"Can you stand?" The man asked as he reached out his hand, offering to help you off the ground.

You answered yes and thanked him, accepting the man's help and took his hand.

With the sun as a light, you could see the man with your own eyes. Yet, his appearance still alluded you. His face was obscured by a hood that hid his hair and a blindfold that covered his eyes. Only his nose, mouth and chin were exposed, which did not say much besides that he had stubble on his chin. He also wore a long coat with a short and tattered cape on his shoulders, which was either torn after many battles or fashioned to his liking. The mysterious saviour was still a stranger.

"I am Oscar, a fellow outsider. There is little time for us to know one another, as well as answering any questions you may have."

At the very least, knowing his name was enough for you.

"I know where you want to go. It is where I am going."

Puzzled by how he knew, you asked why, only to be interrupted mid-sentence.

"I said there is little time. Just enter the carriage, and all will be answered when we arrive."

Whatever the case may be, following Oscar seemed to be the best option. He took his seat as the driver while you entered the interior of the carriage. When he sat down, Oscar alerted the horses to move, leaving the asylum behind as they dragged the carriage across the road. You took a look outside through the glass window to witness your departure from the nightmare. When the tress buried the view of the asylum, you could see your own reflection. Apparently, your time in a cell made you unable to recognize yourself. Your hair was longer than it originally was, dirt was everywhere and your clothes were torn and stained. Most notably, you're thinner. Two weeks of total darkness with little food takes quite the toll on the average human, no matter how strong their will might be. Thankfully, it was in the past, now that you were on your way to where you were meant to go.

Yharnam, the home of blood ministration.

...

An hour had passed since the two of you left the asylum. Outside, you saw that you just passed the gate into the city. You were now in the city of Yharnam you've heard so much about. To the outside world, Yharnam was a place out of a fancy fable. A city where there were no sick and no injured, all thanks to the miracles of their blood healing. One would easily believe that if a place was to receive such a tale, it must have been like paradise on earth. It was not. Carcasses of men and beasts were littered everywhere and coffins were piling up on the side of the road. No people were outside their homes besides the mob you spotted patrolling on a street below the bridge you were crossing. The mob was armed to the teeth with fire and steel, circling around a large bonfire with a crucified beast on the top. You had heard of this before. A tradition the people of Yharnam called the Hunt.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped. Thinking that you had arrived at your destination, you reached out for the door, only for Oscar to slam his hand on it, preventing it from being opened.

"Wait here." He told you before disappearing from your view.

With the thought of that something must've blocked the road, you obeyed and waited for him. You were close now. So very close to fulfil your goal. Like many outsiders searching for this city, you were once sickened with a disease that was said to be incurable. For the small hope of living longer, you sought Yharnam and its healing blood. Your memory before the fortnight he spent in the asylum is hazy. All you know is that the caravan you travelled with were raided by an unidentified group of bandits. Thinking back, they must've been agents of the Church who took you and the other travellers to the Asylum of the Ailing. The blood transfusion you received there definitely cured you, but in exchange for your freedom and sanity. But there was more. There was another reason for your journey. A one word mystery that you needed to solve. A mystery called 'Paleblood'.

All of a sudden, your thoughts disappeared when you heard a screeching cry. Never in your life have you heard something like that. At that juncture, a large tremor shock the ground. Something was on the bridge, and you were not going to stay and let yourself be taken. Regrettably, your reaction was not fast enough for you to escape. Something with the force of an enormous battering ram hit the carriage with you still inside. The force caused it to roll over several times before stopping, destroying it from wheel to roof. Somehow, you were still alive and conscious after all that. Knowing that, you tried to move, but an unendurable pain on your right leg stopped you. A heavy wooden shrapnel was impaled there, preventing you from moving without tearing your leg off. Your vision was fuzzy, which was no wonder after all that spinning and the loss of blood from your wounds. You heard the horses screaming while they were slaughtered and ripped apart, piece by piece. A chunk of the carriage was in front of you, so you couldn't make out who, or what was doing all of this. Neither could you see nor hear Oscar. Was he slain, or did he leave you behind? Nonetheless, you were on your own again. Despite your fatal wounds, you took both your hands and started to push the wreckage out of your way. You felt your muscles scream in agony as you strained yourself, but you kept going. You pushed and pushed and pushed, but just as you felt it loosen, an enormous hand of a beast took hold of you, pulling you out of the wrecked carriage.

With your distorted vision, the appearance of the giant was obfuscated. All you could perceive was the grey hide it wore and what appeared to be antlers on its head. The beast clutched its hand tighter, crushing your every bone in your body. The pain was excruciating to the point you wanted to just die, but it didn't kill you. Once it stopped, you became stiff as a corpse. You were not dead yet, but you might as well have been. As a final act for the execution, the beast threw your lifeless body off the bridge like garbage. Your fate was sealed. You've evaded death twice, but the third time was the reaper's charm. As you kept falling, you saw how close you were. Just past one bridge, and you would've had your answer. Maybe it was for the best, however. If this was what Yharnam had to offer, then dying and leaving the nightmare was a desirable outcome. Three breaths the fall took and the ground caught you on the fourth. As the weak human you were, the stone floor mangled your body, killing you quickly and painlessly. At the bottom of the city, you lied dead and broken with your red blood oozing between the stone bricks.

You were another fool who came to this accursed city and paid the price in blood. All that was left was the endless dream.

Author's Note:

And that concludes the first chapter. I will say, I did not expect to enjoy writing this as much as I did. In the beginning, I planned this to be about three chapters long only giving small details about the changes. As I finished the first chapter, I realised I had too much fun with it to let it be over so quickly.

The idea came across when I compared the two titles' pros and cons. In the end, I think that Bloodborne has the better lore, whereas Dark Souls had the better characters. And so I thought, why not combine the best of both worlds? Originally, this was meant to be told in the perspective of the Chosen Undead I created in the first game, but I decided to write in a second person point of view to replicate the feeling of playing a Souls game.

One thing I need to tell you beforehand is that this fic won't cover every single character in Dark Souls and all the optional areas in Bloodborne will be skipped. The reason for this is because I want to finish this project and don't have all the free time in the world at the moment. I may write bonus chapters if this series does well, but I can't promise that.

Hopefully you'll stick around to see what happens next. Please leave a review and give some feedback for improvement.

P.S For anyone who is wondering, the title of this fic is the literal translation of Blood Echoes in the Japanese version of Bloodborne. I originally had the place holder title "Blood Souls" when I started, but it felt too simplistic and silly for my liking.