I was roosting in my room in Anor Londo, slowly devouring what remained of Gwyndolin. As the days pass, I have begun to notice a curious change in my environment. The floor has grown wet, and puddles form in the places that I have crawled. I have dug my body deep into the ground so that I can rest while I digest my food. The insects beneath the soil, and particularly maggots, are drawn to me, and they cling to my flesh, burying deep into me, as if they want to partake in the rot that exists deep within my form. All around me, I see the walls beginning to decay. Stone turns into dust. Metals rust. A thin, slimy water has crept into the structure of this place. The Deep has begun the process of taking over Anor Londo.

These are all things that I have predicted. I have seen the state of the world become thus in my visions. Soon, everyone shall see as well. The Deep will come, and it will consume this world. It is not Light, nor Dark, that shall inherit this world, but rather the things born of the Deep. The things that will be born from me, from my flesh, once I have devoured all. Already I see them taking form. Pieces of sludge, hungry to devour the living, separate themselves from my great mass and crawl up the walls, eventually hanging themselves from the ceilings. These creatures will take their time to wait for their prey. They will wait, until beings of flesh - sacrifices brought to me - walk below them, and then they fall, and then they will consume that flesh.

A great beast has appeared in Anor Londo. Like the sludges, these beasts hang from the ceilings, hanging by their long, thin, black-furred legs. Their eyes glow yellow, and skulls line their necks. They, too, are born of me. When they breathe, they exhale a pale yellow gas that corrupts the bodies of living creatures. The living will die imminently from exposure to this gas - if they are not killed by the creature's powerful claws and fangs first.

I relay all of these things to the one that currently feeds me. Gwyndolin has spent many days inside my body. Most of the time, he is unconscious. But he is not yet dead. I feel a vibration, a stirring from him often when I resume my feeding. During those times, I sense a great pain erupt from within his body. It is not only the physical pain of being devoured, but also the pain that lies within the sorrow of loss. He knows the state of affairs in Anor Londo. The halls that were once the marvellous home of the Gods have succumbed to my servants of the Deep. Anor Londo is my home now, the Gods long ago. Soon, the Gods will also be forgotten. But it is fine. I do not feel sympathy for the creatures that feed me. I enjoy their pain. I wish to hurt them more, and I relish in their suffering. Complete despair is my gift upon them. I cannot wait for the moment when I will finally finish devouring Gwyndolin. His last shudders of life will certainly be the greatest pleasure.

Just the other day, the Pontiff paid me a visit. He warned me that the Unkindled have risen to bring the Lords of Cinder back to their thrones. I was still feeding at that time, and I did not wish to be interrupted, so I told him to take care of any trespassers of Anor Londo. Soon after, the Pontiff bowed and left. This meeting reminded me that I was, indeed, a Lord of Cinder. The thought brought me back to the days before my death, the days when I was still mortal. I had engaged in rampant cannibalism back then, just as I do now, and thus I had already begun the process of taking my current form.

I remember the sacrifices that were brought to me, day after day - young and delicious mortals. Their flesh, which had not yet dried up from hollowing, were what I longed to consume. The tastiest ones were the children. It is not only because their meat is the most delectable. It is also because of their fear. I remember the look in their eyes when they were brought before me. Eyes that were so wide, so innocent, so full of terror. It gave me great pleasure to look upon those eyes. It also gave me great pleasure to snatch them within my bosom, to hear them scream, and to see their faces contort with agony as I begin devouring them. The eyes, I would eat last, so that I could relish in their fright until the very end.

I tried to savour their taste, but being children, I often finished eating them too fast. Sometimes, my loyal deacons delivered so many of them to me that I simply could not remember which ones I had not eaten yet. I vaguely recall a day where I had a great feast, with twenty five children delivered to me. I sampled parts of each of them - a limb from one, an ear from another - and left them lying there, bleeding, so that they could suffer a little before I finished eating them. But there were too many children, and I could not remember which ones I had eaten and which ones I hadn't. As a result, two of them escaped from me, and I never saw them again. I vaguely remember their names. One, I believe, was called Anri, and the other was Horace.

Nevertheless, all this lies in the past. Today, and for many days to come, I feast upon a God. And, when I am done with this feast, I will have grown powerful enough to bring about the coming age of the Deep. I will devour all. Enough rumination. Now, to return to my feast.

I hear noises outside. It sounds like there is an intruder upon this great hall. My deacons are fighting them off now. I hear their spells of fire, bursting against the walls. My living flesh are dropping from the ceiling, hungry to consume. The spider beast has awoken as well. It has heard the sound of the large double doors opening.

The noises continue. Fire is exploding everywhere. I hear a great cry, and I sense the death of the spider beast. Then, the cries of my deacons as they fall, one after another, to what appears to be the singing of a blade. The intruder is a mighty one. They have carved through my deacons with ease. They have made their way to the stairs before my room. My final deacons greet them with a wave of fire. But, I only hear the cry of my deacons as they are sliced apart. Now, the intruder is approaching me, interrupting me from my feast. It is now the moment of our meeting.

They enter, a knight in elite armour, brandishing a long straight sword. But, now, I hear another noise. I see something else, appearing beside them.

"I thought it might be you..."

"...No, this only bolsters my resolve."

"Please, lend me your strength."

"Help me vanquish Aldrich, the man-eating fiend."

It was a surprisingly familiar voice. I felt as if I had seen that knight before. The two of them rushed at me, and I rose up from my feast, propping up the body of Gwyndolin as well. I can control Gwyndolin. I make him fire his Darkmoon Bow to the ceiling. A cluster of clouds appear before me, and arrows rain down, chasing after the two intruders. They skillfully dodge the arrows. Then, they charge at me again, slashing at my body with their weapons. Their blades sting, and I slam my scythe to the floor, creating a portal for me to escape into.

I emerge on the opposite end of the room, my body glowing with ember. Again, I fire my arrows. The shot is much more powerful this time, bolstered by my newfound strength, and the arrows chase after them more viciously. The knight is struck and pinned to the ground. Arrows blast them one after another, and I imagine that they would be dead soon. But, to my surprise, when the volley has finished, they rise up to their feet, drinks from a flask, and looks as if they are well again.

I slam my scythe into the ground and escape again. But, somehow, when I rise out of the ground, they are already rushing as me, as if they had predicted where I would appear. They strike me again with their blows, and I begin to feel pain. In panic, I fire blasts of sorcery at them, knocking one of them over. They rise to their feet once more. I swoop down, aiming to steal some of their life with my scythe. I slash the knight, and their life force surges through my body, refilling my power. The two of them retreat to drink, their feet burned by the fires emanating out of my form. I escape again.

I do not know what to do.

I cannot leave this room. This room is my throne, my domain. They are intruders. I must kill them.

Who sent them?

How could they fight with such resolve?

Are the Unkindled truly so courageous?

I rise out of the ground and am greeted with blow after blow by their weapons. I attempt to strike back, but I cannot hit them. Their strikes overwhelm me with pain. I am beginning to feel that this is the end.

I raise my scythe once more.

There is a devastating blow upon me, and suddenly, I feel as if I am about to fall apart. I can fight no longer. My body is disintegrating into ash. I am about to die.

I do not wish to die.

Before the dark claims me, I hear a voice. The knight is speaking again to their companion.

"I owe this to you. Thank you. Truly."

"Horace, we've done it, we really have..."