How long has it been since another Undead had passed through the crack? Even She does not know, not anymore. The convoluted days had finally come as Time literally tangles around itself. Figures of beings from ages long past appearing in forms of ghostly white phantoms, most visible when nearing the Fire. The sun had neither set nor rise, its position frozen beyond the orange horizon.
But yet, in spite of all this, Her hope has not yet faltered. The Monarch will come and She shall guide him, strengthen him, and assist him in whatever way she can. And in return, He will set things right, He will complete the task, and He shall Link the Flame.
And She won't be the only one to aid the Monarch. For although the land of Majula remains a barren one, nowadays, it has been showing signs of life. The Blacksmith has return at last from his quest for his key and has remained sitting against the wall of his shop, refusing to move, despite Her offering a place by the Bonfire. A Cartographer showed up one day, taking up residence in the Majula Mansion but left shortly after, with a wish of drawing a map of Drangleic.
Among others that came and gone over the course of her duty, includes a Sorcerer and his apprentice seeking to hone their knowledge of Sorcery and Pyromancy in the land of Drangleic, or so he says as they walk off into the stone doorway leading to the Tower of Flame. She hasn't heard from them since, and hopes they'd come back soon. An ambitious young lady with peculiar looking stones. She had hoped in persuading her to stay, but Her words fell on deaf ears as she sought to further her ambitions and left. A women in cloth, wishing to spread the wondrous art of Miracles, left as soon as she arrived towards the Tower of Flame. And many, many more.
All that remain are Herself, The Knight, The Feline, The Merchant, and The Blacksmith.
With all these encounters in such little time, She conclude that the gears of Fate had finally begun to turn and waited in anticipation for Her Monarch. Only to get nothing, not one has passed through the rocks in such a long time.
So now, She stands, finding herself gazing at the view underneath the dead tree more and more as the days go by. She finds it soothes her spirits, watching the waves, the wind blowing softly as time slowly goes by.
And in her thoughts, fails to notice a figure slowly approaching her at a pace of a slight jog. It was only after hearing the crunching of grass beside her, did she look. And from the corner of her eye, a silent face met her. His clothing dirtied, sword in hand and his hair a mess. His face a blank stare.
To guide the Undead. That is her duty. As it always has been. This Undead should be no different from the others, and yet, a strange feeling, one filled with such certainty, more than any other She faced before, stirs inside Her.
"Are you...the next monarch?" She said, initiating. "Or merely a pawn of fate?"
The Bonfire had been touched, by Him. The flames not only glowing brighter, but stronger as well, stronger than any Undead that have come before. How She realized this, without facing the Fire, she does not know. Being link to the Fire, detecting the souls of Undead that had rested in its warmth was a normal thing for Her. But not only could she sense him, but She could also feel him. His breathing, the warmth of His body, the state of His spirit. All within the strengthen flames. Something... she couldn't explain why.
"Bearer of the Curse..."
She had hoped many times, only to be proven wrong over and over again. A cycle of Her own doing. A cycle, if She were truly honest, had grown weary of.
"I will remain by your side."
And yet, here She is again, hoping, that maybe this time...
"Until this frail hope shatters."
He might just be the one. The one She can truly stand beside.
"Take this with you." She reached into her robes and pulled out a dull green flask, the last and only one she has left. "May it ease you on your journey."
Almost mechanically, He reached out and took the flask from her hands, still not uttering a word, and remained staring.
"Go on, and see the King." She said, lowering her hands to the side. "He who made Drangleic what it once was. He who peered at the essence of the soul. King Vendrick."
Her eyes shut, just for a moment and saw a small white flame, burning dimly, barely lighting the darkness. Her heart sunk at the sight of this. This was not the soul she had hoped of seeing. She had envisioned a bright light, one so blinding that It'd chase the Darkness away. Not this, a simple man's soul. Not even Her previous Monarchs had a soul this pitiful.
Nevertheless, She would strengthen that flame, stoke it, till even the King would be beyond compared. But the journey would be one with much suffering, He would have to venture the lands, seek its Masters and conquer them as well in order to burn greatly within.
"Bearer of the Curse." She began. "Seek misery. For misery would lead you to greater, stronger souls. You will never meet the King with a soul so frail and pallid."
"Seek those whose names are unutterable, the Four endowed with immense souls. Their souls will serve as beacons."
How many times had She reiterated these same words to others, She lost count long ago. Her voice grew slightly hoarse by the thought of this as She spoke again.
"Once you have found them, return here to Me. So that hope will not fade away."
And the next, words that She had only uttered to five others before Him, words that She will continue to utter, so as to reaffirm His quest, lest He forgets.
"Bearer of the Curse... Seek souls. Larger, more powerful souls. Seek the King, that is the only way. Lest this land swallow you whole... as it has so many others."
When She was done, He stood motionless for a moment, before slowly walking past her. The tower catching His attention, and engaged conversation with The Knight resting upon it. He took his time exploring the Land of Majula, making it a point to engage the residents if He spotted some. From The Knight to The Blacksmith, from The Blacksmith to The timid Merchant and from there, to the aged house at the far end, to where It resides.
This She found amusing. Not all Undead go their way to explore this barren waste. Most would be content enough to be pointed at the right direction, in search for the Cure. Come to think of it, He hadn't even questioned Her about it. Turning Her slight smile, into a discreet frown. Has he even come here in search for it? Were her words wasted on this mute Undead?
She shut these thoughts away as She watches him exit the house, the same expressionless stare on His face. Another thing She found peculiar, most would be taken aback after exiting that house, but He seemed unfazed by it, as if it was a normal occurrence for Him.
It was a while before He departed for the Forest, and during His stay, had made an impression on everyone He encountered, some better than others.
"A peculiar one, this Undead." Said the Knight, walking down the stone steps leading down to the Bonfire. "But as promised, I offered sound advice. I told him about the Four Great Ones and even made Him aware of the Blue Sentinels. Though I wonder what good it'd bring. All the while I have been speaking, all he did was stare. If I didn't know any better, I'd say His on the verge of Hollowing already."
She gave a slight bow at his direction and spoke.
"Even so, I thank you for assisting. It need not matter how trivial your actions may be, so long as it helps."
He took a sit at the Bonfire and sighed. "He left for the Forest... Poor soul. The Pursuer does not take kindly to Undead."
A gruff voice gave him a reply. "Him. He did me in a couple of times while I was searching for my key. If this traveler finds it, I'll gladly lend him my hammer."
"If months of worthless floundering bear no results. What makes you think a mere Undead from some unknown land will have success?" Challenged The Knight.
"Astora." Came a voice drawing near. "He looks of Astorian blood."
"Haven't heard of it." Said the Blacksmith.
It leaped onto the rocks and gave a chuckle. "And you shouldn't. It is a land forgotten by men throughout the ages. But its bloodline still exist, quite a rarity really."
"Do the people of Astora also have a tendency to not utter a single word?" Asked the Knight.
"No. Just Him." It said matter of factly.
The Knight shrugs his shoulders in response and there was no more talk.
As they stared in silence at the Fire, She couldn't help but be amused by the situation at hand. The four of them, the thoughts of one single Undead on their minds when normally they'd just brush His existence from their minds, especially It. Only one missing now is the Merchant, and wonders what was his impression of Him.
"Thou who art Undead art chosen." It uttered spontaneously, earning strange looks from both men and even a puzzled expression from Her.
"In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the Land of Ancient Lords." It continued, amused by their reactions. "When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know." It finished.
It was a while before any of them responded.
"A prophecy, is it? From Astora?" She inquired, when none of them spoke.
It nodded It's head in approval. "Yes indeed. The discussion made me recall of it. I'm surprised I can still even recite it."
"And what deemed it necessary to speak of a long forgotten prophecy?" Asked the Knight.
Hearing that, It turned its head to look at Her, and gave Her a smile. "His scent."
Her cool and calm facade broke for a second. "He's-... You mean... He is?"
The Knight was taken aback by this, having no idea what It means by that.
"Well, not entirely. It was barely even there. But yes, His scent is of one befitting the Flame. Just like other Linkers of the Fire before him." It said.
"So have I finally found it? Would he be the one to seek the Fire? Is my duty reaching its end?" She continued asking, ignoring the stares from the Knight and the Smith.
It chuckled at her behavior, seeing Her like this is quite a sight indeed. "Be calm, Dear. It is still the beginning of His journey. To set fate in stone, you must be the one to guide Him, do not lose sight. And remember, He still has the choice to renounce it, just like some others before Him."
Despite She herself hoping to find her True Monarch, having been told that she had indeed found him, after so long, was too much for even Her to handle and only just realized the strangeness of her behavior and looked to the side, attempting to hide her embarrassment in the face of others.
"Forgive me... I was... I simply needed confirmation. You will not see me act like that again." She said quietly.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then the Smith let out a hearty chuckle. "Nothing wrong with wanting answers, It's fine, It's reassuring to know that you can in fact, show emotion. You're human, after all."
She turned to the Knight, only to find him already walking up towards the tower.
"Forgive me." She said. "You most likely had no clue of our conversation."
But the Knight, still walking forward, brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "I don't really care." He said. "I'm simply... crestfallen."