Author's Note: By the time this first chapter is published, the Dark Souls II beta will just be made available to players. This means I'm writing this with only wild imaginings and reckless speculation as to the storyline of Dark Souls II. I wanted to write a tale that intertwines our world and the world of Dark Souls and its sequel, and create my own character from that story as my character in the game. Ha ha ha!

A crone in a red robe clamored down a winding path of steps that hugged the cliff. The great city of Lordran was visible on the horizon, and the titanic plateau, the bedrock of Anor Londo, touched the clouds. The winds swirled about the canyon; an omen of the great battle was taking place. The crone was sure. The Chosen Undead had fought his way to the last bastion of Lord Gwyn. At the Kiln of the First Flame they dueled. What were uncertain to others were the Chosen Undead's intentions. Having the council of both great serpents, Frampt and Kaathe, none knew what would become of the world. Would the Chosen Undead succeed Lord Gwyn and ignite the First Flame with his own essence, or let the Abyss come all the sooner?

The crone was sure. The Chosen Undead would become a martyr, and bring temporary salvation to a dying world. She hesitated to use the word dying. Darkness and corruption have a life all their own. However, she would now need a new beneficiary. If the darkness were to consume all, well that would ruin her fun. As a witch that had seen many ages of the world, any absolute power displeased her. She had been a friend to Ornstein, Gough, and even met the fabled Artorias on occasion, she grinned when she thought of the twisted fate that befell Gwyn's kingdom. Conflict entertained her. But now, with the Abyss left unchallenged or soon to be unchallenged by Lord Gwyn and the inevitably futile efforts of his successor, she needed someone new. Someone unexpected. Someone… not of this world.

The old witch approached a cave with a massive crystal orb at its center, time had eroded its surface, catastrophic mishaps of sorceries had broken it, but her presence made it glow still with energy. A familiar sped past the crone and danced atop the crystal orb, some sort of demented rat with three extra eyes. As the old witch approached, she could gaze into another world effortlessly, showing that the crystal still contained great power. She could see a beautiful young woman, perfect for her needs. She cackled. There was time yet, perhaps enough time for a bit of fun, at the young woman's expense of course.

September 27th, 2013
New York City

The hour was late, and the sun was setting. Near the top of a beautiful skyscraper, lost in the sea of metal and glass that was Manhattan, an older gentleman in formal attire addressed a group of associates at the one of the many business firms that occupied space within the building.

"In conclusion, thanks to the new contract we've worked out with the city, Axios Industries is now poised to be the sole contractor working on the West End Restoration Project, which will yield us almost double the past year's earnings!" Everyone clapped as the short and thin man with a wrinkled face conveyed wonderful news to the group of people before him, "I know it's getting late, so I'm not gonna hold any of you here to celebrate. It's been a tough six months to get this contract, and I know all of you went the extra mile to make sure this happened. You guys and gals sure do make me proud. Now get outta here before you make me tear up!" Everyone laughed in response. As others began to separate, the businessman approached a tall woman with long legs, a comely body, and one of the most beautiful faces he had ever seen. She unlike the others had drifted off during the speech. He could see it in her eyes from the moment she came to this firm, he knew she was special. He could tell when someone had an imagination. When people drift and begin to daydream, he could see that special twinkle in their eyes. He had a child's fascination with that quality in people, and this woman before him was no exception.

"Dreaming of home, Ms. Adrianne?" He asked, looking up into her face, her skin colored like the dusk light of the sunset outside.

"Oh no sir, just tired. That's all. Congratulations on the contract."

"You don't get to play that trick on me, I can tell when you are daydreaming. Always have. Never let go of your imagination. It's the creative spark that keeps us human. Creativity. Ingenuity. Originality. That's what keeps us sane and healthy… You remember when you first came to this office? Must have been almost five years ago now."

"Yes, you told me everything a growing firm shouldn't." She smirked.

"Of course, I told you someone with your body could find easy work modeling for anyone in the city, and anyone with your brains could be making twenty times as much money working on Wall Street. Do you remember what I said after that?"

"That it is better to do good work that easy work?"

"Precisely!" He paused, " You have a gentle heart, and you are also blessed with beauty and good business sense. But never forget what makes you – Ms. Olivia Adrianne – you. We do good work here, we help out the people down there however we can. We build roads, sidewalks, and bridges. We fix buildings and homes, and everything in between. But to do our part as best we can, we need good people. Kind people. Creative people. People who have enough talent to think for themselves and want to help others. Never forget that you are kind and you are creative, and you will succeed in life."

"Are you okay sir?"

"Yes of course! Now off you go. Off to your boyfriend or fiancé or whatever. See you first thing Monday, and great job again!" Her boss whisked her off towards an elevator before retreating into the labyrinth of office cubicles on the main floor of the firm. Confused, she collected her belongings and found herself into one of the elevators with a few other coworkers.

"So is the boss okay?" Olivia asked her friends as the elevator began to speed up.

"That he's happier than usual? I'll take that over my old boss at the firm I used to work at. Dude was a ruthless fuck."

"Nobody heard the speech he gave me just now?"

"I kinda heard him getting teary eyed, what happened."

"He was talking about being unique and creative, he was getting really emotional."

"You mean none of you heard?" One man drew the attention of Olivia and the others immediately, "His only daughter was just in a bad car accident, she's in the hospital in a coma. He couldn't leave to see her because he wanted this contract to get set in stone."

"What? When did this happen?" Olivia asked, shocked by the news.

"Like five or six days ago. She lives in Philly, so I don't know why the boss couldn't drive down; I guess it worried him so much he wanted to stay focused on his work."

"Well we can only wish her the best. And it's not really our business anyway. Besides, you think he wants us to worry ourselves over his problems; he'd never forgive us, or live it down. Let's just all go home to our families, and enjoy this while we can, because come Monday it's back to work for all of us."

"Well, this is our stop, have a good weekend everyone!" Olivia waved as she parted ways with everyone else, as she did not possess a car like the rest of her coworkers. As they headed for the parking garage, she took to the street.

The evening air was calm and peaceful. It was not the shortest walk to her home, but the setting sun and the warm air made such exercise inviting, even in her expensive shoes. Finding the nearest crosswalk, she waited for the light to turn and marched along with the several dozen others across the street. When she first stepped onto the other street corner, something strange happened.

In the distance, every skyscraper and traffic light, every sign and every streetlamp, turned off.

The sun was still on the horizon, light would not fade for roughly another hour. Because of this, many did not notice the severity of the situation. The twenty three traffic lights that stopped working caused massive problems. Shocked at the sight, many did not know what to do. In no rush to remain in the crowd of panicked citizens, Olivia darted off; keeping the source of the blackout in her mind, for deep within that abyss was her home.

Her phone rang. Pulling it out of her purse, she found the caller to be her brother. As a supervisor at one of New York's many municipalities, she hoped he would have an answer for her. "Hey I'm here little brother."

"Olive, hey you okay?" He asked, deeply concerned.

"Yeah, I just got outta work. What the fuck is going on?"

"Heck if I know, I just got a call via cell phone from the Chief of Police, they've got no landlines and power is out from Greenwich Village to Central Park. I heard down the hall they think it was a terrorist attack but the people guarding the grid are calling us saying they can't find the problem. No sabotage, no damage, no nothing."

"What do you think happened?"

"What do I think happened? Could have been a fucking solar flare for all I know, but what I think isn't important."

"Johnny what do you think happened?" She asked more sternly this time.

"I think something really fucked up is going on. You've seen the papers these past few days. Subway tunnels crawling with weird creatures. People losing their minds out of the blue and going on rampages. Now this?"

"It's not the end of the world bro, calm down."

"Okay, but just in case, you think you can hike it to the municipal building? People might start rioting out there because we don't know how to turn the power back on. We've got guards and guns, so it's safe for now."

"Wait, what do you mean you don't know how to turn the power back on?" She screamed.

"Gotta go sis, please stay safe."

Cars were almost on top of one another across the city; without the traffic lights there could be no way to navigate the already maze-like streets. Turning to the subway tunnels, hoping the cars could still be working in the blackout, but she found scared citizens fleeing the lightless tunnels in droves, using smartphones as makeshift flashlights. Some of them looked disheveled, their clothes tattered and cut. She became worried when she saw two police officers came up the stairs with a larger group of people, both with blood smeared across their jackets.

"The subway is out of commission until further notice, with the power out we do not recommend anyone go down onto the platforms." The two men began to hold people back from the stairwell that led below into the dark. Dozens of people were angry and confused, and badgering the men with questions they could not answer. The city was thrown into chaos by the power outage, and unbeknownst to them the power would not come back anytime soon.

When Olivia asked the officers how they came to have blood on their coats, they shuddered. People all over were speaking of strange carnivorous creatures in the tunnels, breaking into subway cars, leaping out of the tunnels and onto the platforms, maiming and consuming as they went. She froze, initially thinking her brother was either reading the tabloids or just making things up when he spoke of weird things beneath the city.

With the underground cut off, Olivia positioned herself on the right street and began to walk. The thought of unknown things pattering about below gave her chills, and the streets were wrought with chaos and mayhem. Horrific screams echoes over the endless roar of car horns. Passing Zuccotti Park, she noticed doomsayers were attracting crowds of hundreds. Every minute that passed, the whole city seemed to steep itself further into madness.

As she walked, she contemplated the horrors around her. To her, the real world was where all the boring things happened. Stuff of fantasy and fiction was always separate from the real world. Nothing truly magical ever happened. So how, how could such terrible things be gripping the city so, terrible and unexplainable things? She began to dash towards the white spire in the distance, barely visible beyond the other buildings, but shining bright in her mind.

Crossing onto Nassau Street, she turned a corner only to be shoved into an alley by a man. His head was shaved, his skin a ghostly white. His most prominent feature was the unknown symbols he had cut into his own skin like one would carve into stone. Most of the characters were bleeding profusely, but the man didn't seem to care at all. Perhaps he even reveled at the pain. Cut in lines along his head and arms, the man had red smears about his person from wiping excess blood from the characters themselves, but more blood continued to run down his face and arms.

Grabbing her by the neck, he pinned her against the wall. "Thou who art undead art chosen, but art thou chosen, and thus undead? My master would have me prove it to her." He unsheathed a curved dagger of Middle Eastern origin, no doubt a well-kept antiquity or a fine replica. Olivia's eyes went wide. Unable to move, as the man's crushing grip was restricting the flow of oxygen to her body, she remained defiant. Grabbing for the man's hand as he attempted to thrust it into her chest, and for a few moments her inner strength kept the blade at bay, it was alas futile. She screamed as the knife slashed the inside of her hand and then slammed into the center of her chest. The blood flowed down her business clothes and onto the street. Overcome with terrible shock, and feeling her end near, her last thoughts allowed her to escape the dark and grim chaos of her situation.

She could feel the fragrant winds of the Mediterranean blowing upon her face, her grandfather's speedboat carrying them out from Venice to the Laguna Veneta. She got up upon the bow of the boat and held her arms out, her father desperate to keep her from falling off, her grandfather and younger brother laughing merrily as the father floundered about, while she danced upon the tip of the boat effortlessly. Though most of her early life was spent in America, Olivia had spent much time with her grandfather in Venice. She had such an appreciation of the colors and cultures of the world, and whenever she felt troubled or depressed, her thoughts took her to these wondrous places. She could taste the salt on the air. She could smell the fabulous foods that would fill the table for the evening feast. Was it all about to go away?

The unending pain reeled her back into the real world, where she found herself on her knees before the madman, having dropped her after dealing the death blow. She saw the gilded hilt of the knife sticking out from her torso, right in the center of her ribcage. Her heart burned as if on fire, while the rest of her body froze and went numb. It seemed like an eternity she knelt there, wondering when she would finally black out and pass on. That moment never came. The madman began to laugh, having come to a terrible epiphany. "I found her my queen. Ha ha ha ha ha! I found undead in a world without magic! Ha ha ha!"

Olivia clenched her fists and slowly looked up at the man, a look of indomitable fury upon her face. Pale from the severe blood loss, and perhaps her death altogether, she ripped the dagger from her chest and lunged at the man screaming. In a blur, she struck him five, ten, fifteen, twenty three times with the dagger in the blink of an eye. Now overtop the pulped mess of flesh that was her aggressor, the head was still intact, and laughing. Somehow it could still speak.

"Run from your future you cannot! This world will die or you will! Oh wait, you're already dead! Bwa ha ha!" She drove the knife one last time into his head, finally silencing her attacker.

Failing to understand how she was still alive, she began to weep. Blood has ceased to flow from the wound, yet she still felt deathly ill and weak. Despite her physical weakness, she refused to give up. She rose to her feet, and hobbled on towards the municipal building, leaving the dagger and the bloodied corpse behind. Had she looked back, she would have seen the body overtaken by a white light, and vanish into bright dust.

By the time she reached the municipal building, her soaked clothing made for a fine tool for dispersing the crowd, dozens parted before her in shock and fright. Her brother was waiting on the steps just behind a barricade of police officers in full riot gear. She was almost on her knees when her brother took her by the arms and helped her inside.

"What the fuck happened to you?"

"I think someone killed me… struck me dead. Why am I still awake?" She murmured.

"Stay with me sis. Medic! Doctor! Anyone!" She was carried inside by her brother and another officer. Someone near the door went looking for a doctor. Olivia was laid down on a bench near the entrance, where the long bulb powering the corridor light blinded her.

"How does this place still have power?" She whispered. Johnny clutched her hand and hovered over her, tears falling from his face onto her blood soaked jacket.

"Don't talk sis. The backup generator is working just fine." He was sobbing, he felt the life drained from her hand, it was icy cold and losing color. He tried to open her jacket to see her wound, and found the open cut in the center of her torso, but it drew no further blood.

"Light is too bright… So cold… but my chest – my heart – burns…" She lifted a hand to open her jacket. Just under her bra, a massive ring-shaped burn was taking shape over her left breast.

"When did that happen?" He screamed. "What is that?"

"That is the Darksign." A voice behind Johnny jerked his head back. Blocking the hallway, partially obscured in shadow, was a massive figure. It was an old woman, though utterly disproportioned by human standards. Her face was feet wide and almost as large as her body, wrinkles wrapped around her mouth and stretched from her massive eyes. Her nose stuck out feet from her body, and her hair was stringy, held up by a wide brim hat that was almost too wide for the corridor. "The Darksign signifies an accursed undead. Those branded with it are reborn after death, but will one day lose their mind and go hollow." Her voice was shrill, and echoed in the hallway.

"What are you?" He looked on in horror, now standing to protect his older sister.

"Step aside foolish boy. All that is wrong here is my doing, and it will continue until she is mine. All that you know will be at peace once again once I am allowed to leave with her… You would be wise to heed my request. There is no place for her here anymore, not until she breaks her own curse, and that will be a feat indeed, for none have yet done so where I come from."

"Foul witch of wild imaginings, be gone! You-you're not real! Stay back!"

"If I'm not real… then is she also alive?" Johnny looked back to his sickly sister, who he once revered for her immeasurable strength of heart and mind. "Her life blood is on some street miles from here. This proves she is cursed. That mark only brands her kind, but in time she will prune and become hollow. She'll look like a raisin! Oh how I love raisins!" She cackled.

"Ask her if… she can lift the curse." Olivia whispered.

"I can't lift the curse. Humans are helpless against curses, and can only redirect their influence. I am not here to remove your curse. I need you because you are cursed. Where I come from, you are needed. Come with me, and you shall not only learn how to live with your undeath, as hilarious as that is, but you shall also rid your home of the blights I have wrought upon it."

There was a pause.

"Time is short. Allow me to take you to my home, and your world will be as it was."

"Can you promise I will be able to return one day?"

"I promise nothing but death if you stay child. So make your choice."

"…Very well." She whispered one last time, "Brother. I will miss you so much. I'll try my best to come back."

"You come back! Don't you die on me! Father, Mother, Grandpa, none of us will let you! You are the strong one! You gotta survive for all of us!"

"Out of the way boy, or my sorceries will vaporize your soul!" The wide witch rushed forward, causing the space around her and Olivia to warp and swirl, eventually becoming ensconced in a black fog. By the time the veil of shadow lifted, all trace of his sister was gone, all except the small amounts of blood on his hands. When the officer returned with the doctor, they could only find a man weeping silently by the bench where she once was. Would he ever see her again?

"Fall down seven times, stand up eight. Such are the words of the undead. It's all about what breaks first, your willpower or the obstacles before you."

Olivia woke up tasting dirt in her mouth, finding herself flat on the ground. Looking up she could see the sun was veiled by pale clouds, and the world around her was arid and battered. There was no sign of the old witch, or anyone else. She turned over slowly. Her bones ached, her chest burned, and she could barely move, but she was alive. She coughed twice.

"What's that over there?" She heard the voice of a man sounded.

"It's a person! She's alive!" Another added.

"Approach carefully. The Old Witch loves her tricks, could be a hollow left as a trap to attack us."

"Don't look hollow to me. We should help her."

"That would be nice." Olivia replied loudly enough for the group of men to hear her.

"That's no hollow!" A younger voice called out.

"Let's take her back to town, let the Mayor decide her fate."

The younger man picked her up and began to carry her. They all wore medieval clothing, but time and war seemed to have worn and stained them, they all looked drained of color, even down to the bloodied bandages that looked to hold all of them together.

And so began her long journey. The Old Witch looked on from her cave, and laughed.