The trip out of Blighttown was, thankfully, uneventful. Lautrec led them across the swamps, the witch Quelana bound and slung over Patches' shoulder, and to the great wooden wheel that lifted travelers away from the stench and foulness of the grimy lands below. The platform creaked with the weight of the three of them, but carried them upwards nonetheless. As they rose, Lautrec dug into the sack tied around Patches' waist and retrieved purple moss clumps for Patches and himself to consume. Swallowing the moss, he could feel the sickness of Blighttown washing away from his flesh and his health returning. The witch seemed mostly unaffected by the diseased swamps, and so Lautrec offered her none.

At the entrance tunnel leading outside and back towards Firelink Shrine, the witch began to struggle in her binds atop Patches' shoulder, and Lautrec was thankful he had disposed of the infested barbarians who stalked the pathway on his way in.

"She ain't making this any easier, Lautrec," Patches whined, grimacing and grabbing handfuls of the witch's robes. "Fire bitch is hurting my shoulder!"

Lautrec haulted their advance and signaled Patches to set Quelana down. The bald man smirked, nodded, and dumped her to the ground where she landed with a thud in the dirt. Her hood had slid away from her face as she landed, and she stared up at Lautrec as he approached; the emerald green pits of her eyes shimmering with anger in the sea of pale, soft, flesh that was her face. "Get away from me..." she warned.

"You don't tell the Knight Lautrec what do do, fire bitch!" Patches snapped.

"Why are you making this difficult?" Lautrec asked her, ignoring Patches.

Quelana avoided his eyes as she spoke. "Why? You kidnap a woman, truss her up, and haul her away from her home and you have the audacity to ask why she makes it difficult? You truly are a fool, aren't you?"

Lautrec traced the line of her eyes down the tunnel and to the strip of sunlight that awaited them, leading outside and to the Valley of the Drakes. When he looked back to her, he saw something beneath that smoldering anger in her eyes. "You're afraid, is that it?"

Quelana's look snapped to him and her mouth opened, but she said no words.

Lautrec nodded. "You've never left Blighttown, have you? Never even seen the sun in the sky I take it?"

"I..." Quelana stammered, lowered her eyes, sighed. "No... I have not."

"Hee-hee!" Patches giggled behind them. "Fire bitch is afraid of the big bad sun! Hee-hee!"

"Patches, what is your favorite finger?" Lautrec asked the man without turning to him.

"W-what?" Patches answered between giggles.

"Your favorite finger. Which is it?"

"I... I guess this one?" Patches moved to Lautrec's side and wiggled the index finger of his right hand. "This little finger has made a good number of bitches like her moan, I'll tell you that. Why?"

"If you refer to her as 'fire bitch' one more time, I'll cut it off."

Patches giggled, but when Lautrec set his eyes on the man and did not, Patches' face ran cold and he began rubbing at the finger protectively. "She's a master pyromancer and the daughter of Izalith, and a lot more valuable than you. Show her respect or the finger is mine."

"Gods, Lautrec, alright!" Patches shouted, still rubbing the finger. "Calm the hell down!"

Lautrec turn his look back to the witch. She was staring at the end of the path again. "Look, witch, you are going out there. One way or another," Lautrec explained, dug the blade of his shotel beneath the ropes around her ankles, and cut them loose. "The sun is nothing more than a big ball of fire. You should be run at home beneath its gaze." He cut the ropes at her knees. "But if you fight us... run from us... waste our time any further... things can go badly for you. Do you understand?"

Quelana glanced at her freed legs before turning her green eyes on Lautrec. Her face was set in hard lines as she spoke, "You're going to burn for what you're doing to me, knight."

Lautrec nodded. "Fair enough. Some day I'm sure I will. All men must pays for their sins. But for now? Get up. And get moving. Patches, take point."

They proceeded like that all the way to Firelink Shrine; Patches leading them, whistling a melodic tune as he went, happy to be freed of the burden of carrying the witch; Lautrec at the rear, keeping a vigilant watch for ambush; Quelana between them, marching begrudgingly forward, her torso and arms bound in ropes. At the end of the tunnel, she put up some resistance to stepping into the sun, but Lautrec took her by the shoulder and nudged her forward until she stumbled outside. The witch gasped and winced as if struck by a mighty blow, but after a moment of realizing the sun was not going to melt her flesh, she stood again and began taking fearful, cautious, steps forward. Lautrec moved behind her and pulled her hood over her head, and though she spoke no gratitude, she moved at a quicker pace from then on.

The were quickly in and out of the Valley of Drakes, briefly trekking past the haunted New Londo Ruins, and then up the long elevator that carried them to Firelink Shrine. They ascended the spiraling staircase of old stone and overgrown moss, and stepped out below the bonfire.

Quelana halted before the barred prison set into the earth below the bonfire and spun on Lautrec. "My pupils have told me this is where she resides. And yet, here she is not." The witch's voice grew angered from within her hood. "You killed her. Anastacia. Even with all your knowledge of cycles and patterns and Chosen Ones... you still killed her. Why? If this world is destined to reset itself, why still murder the women!? My pupils expressed such great sorrows for-"

"Enough!" Lautrec shouted, and his voice was loud and angered enough to cause Quelana to step backwards away from him. She went quiet. "If there are a million lifetimes, I'll kill her a million times. Because I have to. And because she deserves it. No more on this. Move. Now." Even the mere thought of the woman was making his blood boil. He moved forward, spun Quelana around, and shoved her to get her moving again.

"What kind of knight are you to kill a helpless woman with no tongue," Quelana said quietly as she climbed the stairs to the bonfire above. "Pathetic."

"Speak of this again and you'll have no tongue," Lautrec warned.

The witch turned to glare at him briefly over her shoulder, but said no more.

Patches stepped before the unlit bonfire, kicked at the ashes with the toe of his boot, and spit into its center. He turned his bald head to Lautrec and raised an eyebrow. "Now where? You never exactly told me how we get to this Undead Asylum from here."

"The bird," Lautrec said, pointing across the arched stone passages that led underground to the Kiln of the First Flame. The giant black beast was there, perched high above, the black pits of its eyes staring down upon their party.

"The bloody crow?"

"Yes. And Frampt is gone. That means the Chosen is facing off with old Gwyn right now as we speak. We're out of time. Let's move."

"How the hell is the crow going to get us anywhere?" Patches asked, scratching at his head. "And how are we supposed to get the things attention?"

"Follow me. I've done most of the heavy lifting for us already," Lautrec explained, took Quelana by her bound wrists, and pulled her beside him as he quickly moved up a flight of stone stairs and around the high walls of the inner pool.

After a short walk around, they came to the base of a towering stone structure. A rope dangled down to them from high above, swaying in the cool breeze. "Climb," Lautrec said, taking the rope and shoving it against Patches' chest.

Patches swallowed, his eyes widening as he traced the rope up and up to the top of the structure. "That's a damned hundred foot climb, Lautrec!"

"Climb," Lautrec snapped. "We have no more time for chatter."

"Gods help me..." Patches whispered, touched his forehead, and then hopped up and grabbed the rope at the highest point he could before starting the long and difficult process of ascending it. "I suppose I'll be hauling the fire bi- er, well, the fire... witch up after me too, ain't I?"

"Yes. She couldn't weigh more than a hundred pounds though, if that. You'll manage."

Patches moved higher up the rope. "If I fall-"

"You'll die. Or be so broken I'll leave you for dead," Lautrec explained. "So... don't fall."

"Why keep the idiot around?" Quelana questioned once Patches was high enough to be out of earshot. "What use could he possible be to you?"

"I need aid," Lautrec said. "And there is little to be found in these cursed lands. I came upon him in the catacombs. He tried murdering me."

The witch turned her hooded face to him.

Lautrec grinned. "He tried. Obviously, he was not successful. I defeated him, and instead of ending him I made him swear his allegiance to me."

Sardonic laughter came from within the witch's hood. "Loyalty sworn under knife point is no true loyalty."

"No," Lautrec agreed. "But I'll take what help I can get, as temporary as it may be. Plus, the man's already tried to kill me once and failed. When he does inevitably tire of taking my orders, he'll try again. Likely, the results will be the same."

Quelana was quiet for a moment, then said, "A witch in chains and a man sworn under false loyalty. And you expect this foolish mission of yours to succeed?"

"I expect to change things. Or to die trying." The rope came tumbling back down to them, and Lautrec craned his neck back to see Patches had made it up and was waving his hand triumphantly. Lautrec pulled the witch closer to him and fasted the length of rope around her waist. "He's not particularly strong," he told Quelana as he bound her. "So don't squirm about too much if you don't want to lose your life."

"My life?" Quelana echoed. "You think I value my own life? If I die, according to you, I just come back once this world resets itself. Isn't that right? Back in Blighttown where I belong."

"Maybe," Lautrec admitted, fastening the final knot. "Or maybe this is the time I do change things and your miserable existence ends as a splatter right here at my boot. You can take the chance if you wish." He cupped his hands around the mouth slit of his helm and lifted his head. "Patches! Take her up!"

Quelana was hoisted off the ground, her bare feet dangling below her. She grunted at each jerk upwards; Patches pulling and pulling above. Lautrec watched her go, and when she was high enough, he could peer up and into the hood of her robes. Her thin lips were curled into a grin. He didn't like that. The sight of a witch smiling never meant good things. He'd learned that the hard way in another life.

"Hurry Patches!" Lautrec shouted. He watched as the dark figure of the witch was pulled the final length of tower, then disappeared over its edge. A moment passed, no rope came. "Patches! The rope!" Another moment. Still no rope.

Lautrec cursed and kicked at the structure. Either Patches had finally betrayed him, or the witch had a trick up her sleeve. Either way, it was bad. Lautrec turned on his heel and darted back down the length of the grassy pathway beside the tower. He spun around an archway, bounded up a flight of stone steps, and turned a corner at the top. An elevator pulley system awaited him. He rushed inside, waited until the pulley lifted him high enough, and then jumped outside onto the roof of the structure below. He'd watched the Chosen One do this. Several times, in fact. It was how he's tied the rope up there in the first place. He stepped to the edge of a grassy hill growing out of the mountain beside the roof and took a breath. A slanted stone pillar a dozen feet below, and another dozen away, jutted from the ground. It led to a staircase that would take him up to the top of the tower. He took a step back, judged the distance, took another step. He jolted to the edge of the hill, leapt with everything he had, and sailed through the air towards the pillar.

The gold chestplate of his armor clanged off the rock as he came up just shy of landing on his feet. His golden gauntlets grasped for a holding, but found none, and for one head-spinning moment - he thought he was going to fall. Then his boot found a foothold and he dug in and pushed himself upwards. He hit the ground running, barreling around the corner and climbing the spiraling staircase in twos. Out of breath, his heart pounding in his chest, he made it up to the crow's nest.

Patches was working furiously to untie the knots around Quelana's wrists.

"Patches!" Lautrec shouted, but the bald man paid him no attention.

Quelana did, however, and quickly stepped away as he rushed forward and tackled Patches to the ground. They rolled twice, coming just short of sailing right off the edge. Lautrec's helmet banged the ground, twisting it to the side and blinding his eyesight within. He roared and ripped the thing from his head, tossing it aside. It rolled and disappeared off the edge. He ignored it, choosing instead to wrap his hands around Patches' throat and squeeze.

Patches' face went from yellow to red to purple. His eyes bulged in their sockets, rolling around wildly in his head. His hands grasped at Lautrec's own, but the strength had run out of them. Choked, gurgling, noises escaped his lips that might have been his attempt at words.

"Release him," Quelana called over Lautrec's shoulder. "It was my spell he was working under. I charmed him. You're about to murder a man for something he had no control over."

Lautrec snapped his head back to glare at the witch. She lowered her hood so he could see her. Her face was scrunched up in sincerity. He turned back to Patches, considered it, and let him go. Patches was torn between coughing and desperately gasping for air as the color returned to his face. Lautrec climbed off of him and stood. He saw that Quelana was standing with her feet at the very edge of the crumbling stone floor of the tower.

"What are you doing, witch?" Lautrec demanded. "Get away from the edge."

Patches was still coughing when he spoke from the floor, "W-What happened? Lautrec? What the hell happened!?"

"The witch put you under her spell," Lautrec explained, not taking his eyes from her. "And I nearly killed you for it."

Patches rubbed his throat and clambered back to his feet. "She... she did? I remember her whispering in my ear and her voice was... it was in my very soul."

"Step away from the ledge," Lautrec said.

Quelana looked back over her shoulder. "A fall from here would surely kill me. Release me."

"Don't do it."

"Let her!" Patches protested. "She nearly got me killed! Demon-tongued wench!"

The wind picked up, sending her black robes into a wild dance around her thin frame. Her hood blew away from her face, and Lautrec saw there were tears in the corners of her eyes. "May I meet my mother and sisters in the life beyond."

"No!" Lautrec shouted.

The earth rumbled and a great, shrill, scream sounded from somewhere deep within the ground.

The three of them all went quiet, their eyes moving from the ground, to the sky, to one another.

"Gwyn is dead," Lautrec said. "The Chosen is about to make his choice. We have to go."

The earth shook again, and this time Lautrec used the opportunity to dart forward and wrap Quelana in his arms. She only mildly struggled. The rumbling had awakened some deep fear in her.

"What do we do!?" Patches shouted in a panic. "How do we get out of here!?"

"The nest. Get in the crow's nest," Lautrec commanded, pulling Quelana along beside him as he climbed into the bed of twigs perched at the structure's peak.

"This is bloody ridiculous," Patches muttered, climbing in himself. "What did I agree to following you on this adventure!? Sitting in a crow's nest a hundred feet off the ground as the world crumbles apart below us? This is insane! What do you expect to happen? That bloody crow isn't going to give a-"

The black wings of the creature came upon them so quickly, it was as if the sun itself had been blotted out entirely. Patches shrieked, and even Lautrec himself found his courage waver a bit. The witch said nothing, only stared at the great beast with curiosity.

"Oh, Gods!" Patches wailed as one of the creatures talons wrapped around his torso.

Lautrec pulled Quelana close to his body and wrapped his arms around her. The crow dug its talons down around them and squeezed him in its mighty grip.

"Can the thing hold all our weight!?" Patches pleaded.

"Let us hope," Lautrec replied.

He felt one final shake of the earth as the mighty crow spread its wings and lifted them from the nest. The cold air spiraled around them, flapping the witch's robes and pulling one of Patches' boots right off his foot. He screamed, but both Lautrec and the witch cradled tightly in his arms, remained silent. They watched as the crow carried them away from the Firelink Shrine, and the tower they had just previously been standing atop crumbled as the world itself seemed to be tearing apart.

Lautrec thought he had finally taken the first step towards true change.

He hoped he was right.