A Spark
In the Age of Ancients the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of gray crags, Archtrees and Everlasting Dragons. But then there was Fire and with fire came disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course, light and dark. Then from the dark, They came, and found the Souls of Lords within the flame. Nito, the First of the Dead, The Witch of Izalith and her Daughters of Chaos, Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights. And the Furtive Pygmy, so easily forgotten.
With the strength of Lords, they challenged the Dragons. Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales. The Witches weaved great firestorms. Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease. And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the Dragons were no more.
Thus began the Age of Fire. But soon the flames will fade and only Dark will remain. Even now there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless nights. And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Darksign.
Yes, indeed. The Darksign brands the Undead. And in this land, the Undead are corralled and led to the north, where they are locked away, to await the end of the world...
This is your fate.
Cold. Crumbling. Rotted. Decaying. There were many words she could have used to describe her surroundings. The best one she could think of was complete and utter shithole. Not exactly poetic, but accurate.
Yet she also couldn't help but wonder how many of those words could also apply to herself.
If there was one thing she knew for absolutely certain, it was that she had lost things. Important things. She knew they were important… at least, she assumed they were. That was the feeling she got. But she honestly couldn't remember. No matter how hard she tried, how much she tried to grasp at them, it slipped through her grasp like sand.
There were a few other things she knew. That she was trapped here, in the Asylum. The cell was small, with a couple of straw piles to sleep on and a bucket to shit and piss in. Not that anyone ever came in to empty it. The only glimpse she had of the world outside came from the skylight above her, the faintest glimmer of sun shining through. Like it was mocking her.
She knew she had been trapped for a while, but for how long, she honestly couldn't recall. She still had the clothes she was brought in, made of a hard leather and a hood to keep the cold and wind from bothering her. She no longer had her weapons, but she did have a ring she'd gotten from some old witch. Or that was what she thought. She remembered two names. Her name and where she came from. Those were two things she'd been sure to hold onto as tightly as she could.
Astrea of Astora. And of course… the Curse.
She glanced down at her left shoulder. That was where the mark appeared. That was where it remained, forever branding her as one of the Undead. She would never die, only lose more of herself every time she did and as time went by. Eventually, she'd go Hollow. She'd never even be able to remember her own name.
Not for the first time, the thought of it made her want to hit something. She didn't know what was worse. That there was almost nothing she could do to stop it or that she was going to spend the time it did happen in some gods forsaken cell. Her determination, her restlessness, burned away as much as the Darksign branded on her skin. She had to get out of here!
But there was no way out. The door was always locked. There were no guards, so no one to trick or fool for the key. The only other people here had lost their minds, so there was no chance of banding together. The skylight above her was completely out of her reach and she couldn't climb up the walls to get there.
She screamed in frustration. Then in surprise when something landed with a loud thud in the middle of her cell. A blackened corpse with something glinting wrapped around its waist. She looked up to see someone kneeling down at the skylight above her, peering down into her cell.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she demanded. "Like I didn't need enough of a reminder of what's going to happen to me, thanks!"
The figure didn't respond. She could make out a narrow helm of plate armour, the sun shining off of it. He stared at her for a couple of seconds, then left.
"Hey, get back here!" she shouted. "Who fuck are…?!"
But she stopped when she actually made out what was glinting on the body. What was unmistakably a key. She blinked. Like a shot, she darted at it and snatched it up. Old, rusted. Like the door to her cell. Had her luck finally turned?
Her question was answered when, with a leap of her heart and a whoop of joy, the iron bars swung forward.
"Thanks, I guess!" she called back up.
Not wasting a moment, she tore down the hallway. She barely spared a glance for the Hollows hanging around with their heads in their hands or lying on the floor. The flames flickered in the torches from the speed of which she ran. She didn't care that she almost stumbled on the stairs or that she was running through what might have been sewer water on her way up.
Finding a ladder in a rounded pit, she tore up it and out the entrance at the top. A cold wind greeted her as she emerged into the courtyard. She stopped. She couldn't believe it. She was almost out of here, almost free! She could have kissed the ground, but stopped herself. She settled instead for another whoop and a fist pump to the sky.
That wasn't the only reason she stopped. She had just seen something before the doors that would lead to her freedom. A sword sticking out of the ground by its hilt, the point buried in a pile of ash and bone. An ember glowed faintly at its base, flickering weakly, yet she was still drawn to it. At her touch on the sword hilt, the ember burst into a flame and she felt its warmth wash over her.
Even for a rambunctious wanderer like Astrea, there was always comfort to be found from the warm glow of a bonfire. All Undead found solace in their flames. It healed their wounds, gave them strength and, if they were to die… somehow, they'd always find themselves at the closest bonfire. Astrea didn't know why and frankly, she didn't really care. Resting at this bonfire felt like the first proper rest she'd had in a long while.
But even the bonfire didn't keep her there for long. Her eyes were soon fixed on the door to her freedom, her feet driving her forward, and her hands pushing on its weathered wooden surface. The years had worn the hinges so they were stiff, but that didn't stop her.
Across the entrance hall was the final obstacle. One last door between her and escape! She could barely contain herself as she bolted towards it… but a growing shadow made her skid to a halt and scramble backward. For the second time, something fell from the sky in front of her. But this was far from helpful or welcome.
A flabby, ugly form towered over her. Jowls of blue grey flesh wobbled from its fall, a huge portly belly that even the fattest official would be jealous of. The mountains of flab continued up and up to an even uglier face. Teeth larger than a man's fist, fangs as sharp as swords and piggy, red eyes that were fixed on her. But her eyes moved away from its face and towards its massive hammer that was now being raised up in its stubby arms.
Her wits returned and she leapt to the side. The ground shook as the hammer of the demon came crashing down. She stood up from her roll and whipped her head back at it. It was already preparing to swing again. No way she could fight it, she didn't even have a weapon.
She glanced about, spotting a pair of torches. Between them, a gate. Her legs pumped, the demon roaring behind her. With one more leap, she barrelled through the gate and the bars slammed shut behind her, in time with its hammer crashing down again.
Panting, she leaned against a wall and looked back out. The demon glared after her, but the fat fuck would never fit in here. She glared back at it and flipped the bird before skulking away down the stairs. The small, dank room filled with water did nothing to make her calm her down. Not even the bonfire she lit down there made her feel any better.
She screamed and kicked the wall. Almost out and the fucking Asylum Demon got her at the last fucking second! She should have figured it would, but she'd also figured that guy who let her out might have killed it. It was the reason there were no guards at the Asylum. Who needed them, when a tall, dark and flabby was waiting so smash anyone who tried to get out?
"Okay, okay. Calm the fuck down, Astrea," she murmured to herself. "You're not gonna give up now. Fatty's the only thing between you and getting out of this shithole. You just need to find something to make sure he won't be as big of a problem. Even if he is literally a big problem."
She barked a laugh at her own humor and started to figure things out. Okay, not getting back the way she came. There was another doorway. She could follow that, maybe find a weapon or another exit or something to get rid of the demon. Better than sitting around here. She'd done it long enough already.
She went to the door. It led out down another ruined part of the Asylum. The roof was damn near gone and the cell doors were all twisted as fuck. She could make out a figure at the other end. It didn't take long for her sharp eyes to note that it was a hollow and he had a loaded bow.
Astrea darted to the side to avoid the arrow that whizzed past and into another cell. The body propped against the door had a shield dangling from its arm. She yanked it off and felt it. Hard leather. Round. Light and easy to use. Just how she liked it.
She raised it and jumped out. The hollow fired again, but the arrow merely embedded in her shield. The force made her arm jerk a bit, but she ignored it and charged forward. Peeking over the top, she saw the hollow turn and flee the other way.
"Get back here, you fuck!" she yelled. She quickened her pace.
Another corpse ahead of her yielded another reward. She grinned as she took the hilt of a sword from its weak grasp. A scimitar. Pretty sturdy and the kind of sword she was used to using. She gave it a couple of swings and tried to twirl it in her usually dextrous fingers. Nearly dropped the fucking thing.
"Guess I am a little out of practice," she muttered. Her grin returned when she looked to the stairs the hollow had fled up. "Best go get some then."
At a quick pace, she reached the top and found him readying another arrow. She didn't break her stride. She raised her shield again to block his next arrow and the scimitar was already whistling through the air when he went for another.
He gurgled as it sliced off his arm and again when she drove it through his neck. He fell down with it still wedged in there, but Astrea yanked it out with a flicker of blood. Looked like she hadn't quite lost her touch.
Moving on, she found herself in an area which overlooked the door she took towards the demon and to the exit. But she focused instead on something through another busted door. A man in full plate armour, lying atop a pile of rubble. The sun's rays streamed down on him, as if he'd crashed through the ceiling and into that room. He wasn't moving.
"Hey? You okay in there?" she called. "Hello?"
No reply. Not even a movement of his head. She shrugged. Guess he was fucked then. She followed the path to another set of stairs that hopefully led somewhere. A low rumbling caught her attention and she saw something tumbling out of the darkness.
She pounced to the right, just in time to avoid the metal ball that came rolling down the stairs. A loud crash told her it broke down the wall ahead of it. Snarling, she mounted the stairs again and saw the hollow who had pushed it. The scimitar was through his gut before he could even raise his shitty sword. She kicked him off and drove it in his chest again for good measure.
"Sneaky bastard." She went to the door and tugged on it. Nothing. She frowned and tugged again.
"Oh, you've got to be shitting me." Grasping it with both hands, she jiggled the door but to no effect. It remained firmly shut. "Oh, fuck you too!"
She headed back down the stairs. Maybe the key would magically present itself again like at her cell. Astrea saw the hole the boulder had made and went to check it out. What she found was a passage to the knight she'd seen, lying on the rubble. She shrugged again. If he was dead, might as well check him for anything useful.
However, when she approached, his head slowly turned to look at her.
"Oh, you..." he remarked with faint surprise. "You're no Hollow, eh? Thank goodness..."
"Uh, yeah," she said unsurely. "Do I know you?"
He chuckled a bit. "Come now. I know what the curse does… but surely you haven't forgotten already?"
"Forgotten? Wait…" She suddenly realised what he meant. "It was you?"
"Indeed." He coughed. "I'm done for, I'm afraid... I'll die soon, then lose my sanity..."
"Sucks to be you."
"Rather," he agreed. "I wish to ask something of you... you and I, we're both Undead. Hear me out, will you?"
"Guess I owe you one," she shrugged.
He nodded his thanks. "Regrettably, I have failed in my mission... but perhaps you can keep the torch lit..."
"If it ends with me like how you are now, I can't say I'm eager."
"Hopefully not. There is an old saying in my family. 'Thou who art Undead, art chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know...'"
The words rung familiar in her memory. Something she might have read or heard long ago back home…
"Well, now you know… and I can die with hope in my heart," he finished.
"Hold on, know what?" she asked. "Some poetry bullshit? How the fuck does that help me?"
"It's… it's all there, in the saying," he breathed. "'Maketh pilgrimage to the land… of Ancient Lords.' Perhaps… Lordran sounds familiar?"
"Lordran?" She had heard it called that, now she thought about it. "How the fuck do I get there?"
"You seem… resourceful. I'm sure you'll find something… Oh, one more thing... Here, take this..." He handed her a green flask, filled with something glowing. "An Estus Flask, an Undead favourite... Oh, and this..." Another key. "It unlocks… the door upstairs."
"Oh." She pocketed the key and managed a smile. "Thanks again. At least it wasn't on a corpse this time."
"In a manner of speaking…" He coughed again. "Now I must bid farewell... I would hate to harm you after death. So, go now... and thank you."
"You too. Wait…" She realised something. "What's your name?"
"Oscar," he said weakly. "Of Astora… and you?"
"Astrea of Astora," she replied, with another faint smile. "Thanks, Oscar."
"You too, Astrea. And… good luck."
"Coming from you?" she smirked. She inclined her head a little and left Oscar where he lay.
She only glanced back once before opening the door up the stairs. She could think more about what he said later. Right now, she needed to get out of here.
The path led her to a viewpoint where she could see what lay beyond the door the demon guarded. More shitty ruined buildings and some smatterings of grass and snow, leading up towards a cliff. Directly to her left were three more hollows. Two with swords, one with a bow.
She drew the sword guys round the corner. She parried the clumsy swing of one and cut his leg off, She ducked under the other guy's and sliced him across the chest. He careened backwards, then fell forward when she drove the sword into the back of his skull. She finished off the other one with the same treatment.
After dealing with a now armless archer, she looked up the stairs they guarded. It led back into the room with the demon and some kind of platform that would drop down into it. She looked back, again at the image of her path to freedom. She had a weapon now, but taking him down would still be tough.
"Fuck it," she growled.
She walked to the balcony and looked down. The demon stared back up at her with his piggy little eyes. She hated those eyes. Time to fix that.
With a battle cry, she jumped from the platform, her sword angled down. She was rewarded with a pained shriek from the demon and a spurt of blood. She switched hands quickly, drove the sword into his other eye and leaped off.
The demon clutched his eye with one hand and wildly swung his hammer around with the other. She backed out of its range as it blindly tried to find her. She smirked at the sight. Maybe this wouldn't be as tough as she thought.
"Hey! Hey, here I am!" she taunted. "Come on and hit me!"
The demon could still hear. He charged in her general direction, his hammer ready to strike. She dived to the side and swing her sword to the back of his leg, driving it in deep. Astrea drew the blade across and watched as more blood spurted out and the demon topped onto one side.
While he tried to use his hammer for support, she sprinted for the other one and gave it the same treatment. With a satisfying crash, he fell forward, roaring angrily. Now, he couldn't see or move. Too bad for him.
She walked around to his head, which bellowed his frustration. His arms failed, his hammer had fallen to the floor to one side. If he didn't know Astrea was right in front of him, he would in a second. Standing in an ox stance, she drove the scimitar right between his eyes. Another loud bellow and breath that smelled like his fat ass almost sent her skidding back, but she dug her sword in deeper.
Until he breathed no more. But she dug it in a few more times for good measure.
"That wasn't too hard," she remarked, wiping her blade down. "And what's this?" Dangling around his fat wrist was the key to the door. "Thanks for nothing, shit for brains. And I don't just mean that as an insult, I can smell my sword."
A few seconds later, his body was glowing a bright white. Like water down a drain, it dissolved away and went into her. Another fun part of the Darksign. She'd gained the souls of the demon, as well as from the Hollows she'd killed. From them, she'd barely felt anything but from the demon… it wasn't like resting at a bonfire, to be sure but it still felt good to have them.
It left something else as well. A little black sprite that flew towards her and into her hand. Her heart leapt at the sight. Humanity. The precious substance that, along with souls, prevented Undead from hollowing. It preserved and maintained their humanity, as long as they had it to spare.
Wasting no time, she pressed it to her breast and felt it surge through her. She felt lighter, stronger. Touching her skin, it no longer felt like a corpse but fresh and smooth. She was human again! She didn't care for how long, it was better than before! Fuck yes, her luck had turned!
Using the key, she heaved the doors open and took a moment of elation as she stepped out and climbed the stairs to the top of the cliff.
But one question rung out: what the fuck was she supposed to do now?
Okay, good news: she had a weapon. She was out of the shithole asylum. She was human. Bad news: it looked like there was no way off this cliff. Maybe if she could find some other way down, a ledge or something. She could climb down or…?
Something that felt and sounded like a strong wind blew up from above. Something large and black with claws descended from the sky, cawing like some massive bird. She barely got time to look at it before it snatched her up off the ground.
"What?!" The wind was rushing and the earth zoomed away below her. "Hey! Put me down, you feathered fuck! What the fuck are you doing?!"
But the giant bird payed no mind to her protests. It flew on, carrying a foul mouthed Astoran Undead further from the Asylum…
For only, in the ancient legends it is stated, that one day an undead shall be chosen to leave the undead asylum, in pilgrimage, to the land of ancient lords, Lordran…
Hey folks! Welcome to the start of my Dark Souls story!
Now, this is an AU fic so there going to be different elements. I will tell you what will happen and what will change when it comes. The rest, you'll see as the story progresses.
I don't expect to do frequent updates, as I do have another story to do, but I shall update when I can. I hope you enjoy it and remember to review.
Thank you
