Prologue

I didn't ask for this, but I will admit that my path is a product of choices that I made. Granted, I had very limited options when I was forced to make important decisions in my life, but as a wise man once said: life's not fair.

Of course this was only one of the many thoughts that permeated through my mind as I slowly crept through the darkness. I had been sucked into this black realm by a cup. Yes, a cup. Of all of the crazy things that I had experienced so far this definitely topped the list. Ok, so maybe it wasn't just a cup. I may have previously dived through a catacomb and just so happened upon an elaborate goblet that may or may not have had a skull for a base which was literally oozing a cursed looking smoke. If there were witnesses present they would say that I was unable to resist touching said object as I vocally spoke the word "Touch", but there weren't.

That being said, in the seemingly endless blackness I was guided by an ember that I held in my hand. The fickle spark floated just a hair away from my opened palm. This was my pyromancy flame. They say that our flame isto a pyromancer as a sword is to a knight. It is our weapon, our voice, and a reflection of our heart. My flame was small, but it produced a light like no other. To be honest I'm still not sure what that actually states about me.

I peered into the fire and out into the dark at the same time as I tried to get a better feel for my surroundings. To give my eyes credit, I was able to see that the floor was like ashen earth, both in texture and color. But that didn't tell me much about where I was so I took a long, deep sniff. If there was anything that my old master told me it was that you could tell if a place was dangerous just by its smell. Unfortunately I didn't smell anything either. Both my gut and insight were telling me that I was in danger but I chose to ignore them. I didn't fear death anymore, and I believe that no undead ever should. In fact, ever since my first post-death experience I had begun to crave my end.

I was always seeking the next opportunity to risk my life for some greater purpose. That is, until the flames began to fade. No, not those flames. The power I'm talking about is rumored to be much different from the legacy of Gwyn, the Lord of Light. This power, the fuel for what I hold in my hand, is whispered only among the pyromancers of the Great Swamp. Unfortunately I'm from a small village and was only taught by a wandering old man before being voluntold to join the Way of the White.

As I thought about my holy order I turned my gaze downward once again and dusted some ash off of my breastplate. My leather boots and gloves were strategically brown and they helped me keep the dirt off of my azul quilted pants and tunic. Connected to my blouse was a hood that hid underneath an open faced helmet. Why not close the armet, you ask? Confidence, my friend. I loved to show off my bastard face to the world. Mind of a northerner, skin of an easterner. I was the laughing stock of my village, ranked right next to my loving, whore mother. Maybe the real reason that I was in the Way of the White wasn't because they noticed that I had a gift and abducted me. Maybe I let them take me so that I could escape my forsaken, middle of nowhere village. Perhaps this was the truth as to why I still doned the pure, white cloak of the order.

My thoughts eventually settled and the battle to keep lunch in my stomach and out of my trowsers began. It was basically pitch black and I felt as if I wasn't alone in this realm of eternal night. Logic deemed it necessary for me to will my flame away as to not be seen by any threat that this land had to throw at me. As usual, I begrudgingly agreed with logic. With the disappearance of my ember the darkness quickly closed around me, swallowing me into its all encompassing solitude.

My gut had ceased its internal conflict but with a quick pat of my rear I checked to see if I had lost the war. Today I just so happened to be lucky. No longer feeling as if I was being stalked I was able to further calm myself down both mentally and physically. I had originally come to the catacombs for a reason. "Find the flame, save your kind." Is what they told me, and if I'd learned anything from reading the epics of Black Iron Tarkus and the Knight King Rendal it was that prophecies were always annoyingly vague.

Awkwardly leaning forward, I accepted my ridiculous pose as I tried to use my last available sense to make sure I was safe. You wouldn't believe what I heard. Surprise! Nothing. I wasn't getting anywhere with this, but I sure as hell wasn't going to simply believe that I was safe and sound when I was just sucked into an evil looking cup by who knows what. I took a long, deep breath and tried one last thing.

Pyromancers are renowned for our connection to the natural world. There are stories of masters of the art using profuse sweating techniques to completely ignore dragon fire. Tales also tell of a witch who could control mindless, hollowed undead. With my mind I reached beyond what I could physically sense. I didn't quite expect what happened next. I didn't find anything, but something sure as hell found me.

"Jeigh" whispered a weak voice, followed by a thousand more. "Jeigh. Jeigh. It's him! Jeigh!"

I slowly turned, minding the swaying of my arms. I wouldn't have wanted to hit anything and end up pissing some demon off. When I properly faced the source of the aural anomaly I couldn't believe what I was able to see. Something hovered in the dark and visibly attracted me to it. I would have approached it too if it weren't for my inability to move my legs.

Remember when I said that I was always craving my death? I definitely wasn't kidding when I said so, but after adventuring in this strange land for some time I began to ponder if there was a being that could deliver true death to an undead like me. There was always the threat of hollowing, but I've seen undead hollow and then inadvertently consume enough souls to regain just enough of their former humanity to cure themselves. No, I didn't fear losing my mind. I feared true death.

My throat began to dry, butterflies fluttered around in my stomach, and I began to shake. Yes indeed, I was scared. My own superstition got the best of me. Fortunately I didn't need to move towards the big scary black thing because it slowly floated over to me. Good for me, right? I couldn't run if I wanted to and to be honest, I wouldn't have been able to run around for very long in the dark.

Eventually I came face to face with what I figured was a pyromancy flame. It was unlike anything I had ever seen however, as it was half my size and its flames were black. I spent awhile just observing. Its fires danced as it continued to whisper to me.

"Jeigh. Save them! Save us." It beckoned. "Follow your heart!"

Ok, I made that last part up. Look, I was just trying to make myself feel better at the time. Humor always helps relieve unbearable amounts of stress.

Was this what the prophecy was telling me to find? Whatever it was I could definitely sense its power. I also didn't feel any sort of evil emanating from the dark flame, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I felt anything good either. Doubt started to fill my heart, but I gave into my instincts and did the first thing that came into my mind.

"Touch." I bluntly stated, barely summoning enough courage to lift my arm.

My mind was instantly flooded with the voices and they brought their emotions with them. I felt happy, sad, angry, excited and scared all at the same time. Visions of the past flashed before my eyes. A malformed man, alone in the dark. Four crowned beings who looked like evil spirits facing off against a man wielding magic and lightning in his hands. A covenant of vile looking women swearing an oath of doom. And lastly a desperate king praying to the darkness only to be consumed by it.

Pain broke me out of my trance of fear as the flames surrounded my arm and enveloped my body. I threw myself onto the ashen ground and pitifully rolled around to try to extinguish the fire. The anguish worsened as I could feel it burrow into my skin and dig through my innards. This forced me to repeatedly scream in agony.

Nature began to react as I began to shut myself down to block the pain. I remember losing the feeling in my legs first, then my arms. The rest of me soon followed suit I completely lost feeling in the rest of my body. I was familiar with what was happening. I was going into shock. Soon my mind would join my body and simply turn off as the lack of blood flow to my brain suffocated me. Then I would eventually wake up by a bonfire after I died… right?

...Oh you're still here. You want to hear the entire story? Well damn, I guess I'll have to start from the beginning.