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This way.
Oscar followed the messages.
Don't give up!
They guided him through the sewers like beacons of light.
You are doing great, my friend.
Solaire had never stopped believing he would come back.
Over here. You can do it!
Oscar put his hand on top the glowing letters.
"My friend."
It was the last of the messages.
"I'm sorry I took so long."
He took a moment to steady himself. That was not to the time to allow his emotions to flow free.
He had to keep going and find Solaire.
Oscar gave one last glance to the message before continuing his way.
The sewers were no less complex than a maze. He chose his path carefully but without slowing his pace.
Soon, he found himself no longer alone.
There was someone there too, right at the end of that long corridor. It was a man clad in strange armor. He was kneeling in front of a generous collection of what seemed to be parts of armors and other miscellaneous stuff.
Oscar slowly moved his hand toward the hilt of his sword.
It was probable that the man was an innocent merchant, but the armor he wore also identified him as a potential warrior or knight.
Or perhaps, he was nothing but a common thief, dressed in the looted goods of his most recent victim.
If he tried anything, Oscar would kill him.
However, it wasn't until his hand found nothing that Oscar remembered he was unarmed. His sword and shield had been nowhere to the found in the bonfire's chamber, leaving Oscar with nothing but his wits and his hands to defend himself.
Curse it!
As if hearing his thoughts, the stranger noticed his presence.
The stranger sprung back to his feet and turned his attention to Oscar. His strange horned helmet tilted slightly to the right.
He remined still, gazing at Oscar in silence.
He's about to attack.
Oscar clenched his fists.
Then let's get this over with. You're wasting my time!
He charged at the stranger. If he was precise, he could take hold of the stranger's neck and break it before he—
"Hold on!" The stranger put his open hands before his chest and crouched his head. "Please don't do this! I was about to get out of here! I mean no harm, I swear!"
"What?"
Oscar stopped running.
"Please don't hurt me." The stranger joined his hands together and dropped to his knees. He looked so harmless and pathetic that Oscar didn't know what to say. "I'll give you all my souls and all the Humanity I have left, but please don't touch my precious collection!"
"I'm not—" Oscar said. He immediately regretted it, for his voice scared the stranger and made him gasp in horror.
Oscar cleared his throat and stood awkwardly not too far away from the stranger. He remained alert and ready to attack just in case it was all a trap.
"I'm not going to hurt you." Even when his tone was soft and mellow, Oscar's voice still sounded unpleasantly distorted and low.
For a second, he thought about putting on the ring of illusion, but then he remembered he had given it to Solaire.
And in exchange, you made me keeep the Humanity we obtained from that demon we killed at the slums.
Oscar swiftly checked inside one of his bags, but he found nothing. The Humanity he had carried with him was gone.
Either the knight of thorns had stolen it from his corpse, or he had lost it during his long stay in the everlasting darkness of death.
The memory of what had happened in that awful place made him flinch.
The dark, the serpent, the Undead.
They all fluttered inside his mind, unresolved and forcedly ignored. Oscar hadn't had the time to process any of it. Deep down, he didn't want to.
He feared he would lose his mind if he did.
Focus. Keep your mind in the present.
He took a deep breath and sighed it out in silence. The dark memories remained close to him, as if they were part of his shadow; but they were now muffled and tightly secured in the deepest part of his mind.
Until he reunited with Solaire, Oscar would have to keep them locked away.
"I'm just passing through." He said to the stranger. "If you truly mean no harm, then neither do I."
"Of course I mean no harm! I'm a man of peace, just a simple collector and merchant." The man replied, offended that Oscar had even considered the possibility of him being a ruffian. "Just passing through... yeah right, and I've laid dozens of times with Goddess Gwynevere. Bloody hell, good thing I'm leaving this place! I've already seen enough violence for a lifetime."
Casually ignoring Oscar, the merchant returned all his attention to his wares and continued gathering them at the center of a big rug. He kept muttering dozens of complaints out loud.
"I knew this was not a good place to make business! Leave it to me to choose some old, stinking sewers as my new trading place! Serves me right for being such a fool. Though I did see some rather interesting armors in my short time here... but what good was any of that, when none of their wearers was interested in doing business with me? You really outplayed yourself this time, Domhnall!"
He talked so fast that Oscar could barely make sense of what he was saying.
The merchant was about to tie together the four corners of the rug and throw the improvised rucksack over his shoulder when he looked at Oscar again.
"Say, young fellow. Wouldn't you be interested in doing some business with me?"
The merchant stood up again. He dusted off his hands before folding his arms on his chest.
"Mmm, yes... it is in quite a poor state, and the lack of a tunic and a helmet drops its value considerably, but I can tell that yours is a legitimate elite armor of Astora. It's a shame; if it was in better condition, I'd gladly pay you a generous amount for the whole set. Still, I'm willing to trade. What do you say? Are you interested?"
"Forgive me, but I can't." Oscar said politely but hurriedly. "But I would like to ask you something before you go."
"Sorry lad, but unless your questions have something with do with my wares, I'm afraid I can't answer you." The merchant claimed, already carrying his packed-up items on his shoulder. "I need to get out of here before someone else comes around and tries to kill me. You should get out of this place while you can too! Only crazy men pass through this place, I tell you."
Oscar's heart dropped to his stomach.
"What do you mean?" he asked, "Did you see any other knights around here?"
"Oh, certainly."
The merchant nodded. His bitter voice only deepened Oscar's fear.
"Three, to be specific. One was clad in a fascinating armor covered with thorns; the other wore a golden armor that, if properly cleaned, would shine like molten gold. The third one's armor was not so impressive, though his round shield would have been a welcome addition to my collection. He was a nice and kind man... or so I thought at first, but he ended up being the most aggressive of the three. Can you imagine that he almost chocked a poor pyromancer to death? And he was his friend! Well, maybe it was to be expected. Astorans do have the reputation of being rather unstable and intense. No offense, lad."
Oscar rushed toward the merchant and grabbed him by the shoulders. The merchant whimpered in fear, convinced that Oscar was about to attack him.
"Was the knight with the golden armor chasing after the Warrior of Sunlight?" Oscar urged. "What about the knight of thorns?"
"N-no!" The merchant answered, shivering as if he was being interrogated by a city guard. "The knight with the armor of thorns passed through here, but he has not returned yet. As for the knight of Carim and the Warrior of Sunlight, I wouldn't worry. They were travelling together. They were not what I would call friends, but they knew how to work together as a team. They did defeat a monstrous demon and found a way to open this entrance."
The merchant cocked his head over his shoulder, directly at the open metal doors behind him. Beyond the entrance, Oscar could only see a wide hole in the floor that led to what he felt was the Abyss itself.
"Is that where they went?" Oscar asked, his mouth going dry.
"Yes." The merchant answered, starting to get uncomfortable under the weight Oscar put on his shoulders. "But lad, I wouldn't recommend you going after them. Blighttown is a place of sickness and disease. You'll find only death there. For an Undead already Hollowed to some extent like yourself, it would be suicide."
"I appreciate your concern." Oscar let go of the merchant. His body was shaking, but his spirit remained determined and strong. "But I've got no choice. Thank you for telling me all this. You've helped me more than you imagine."
Oscar bowed his head to the merchant with the uttermost respect. He regretted having been so distrustful. He wished he could apologize to him in a more correct manner, but he needed to find Solaire.
As long as he remained in Lautrec's company, he was in danger.
But there was something else that troubled Oscar above all other things.
Solaire himself.
Why had the merchant talked of his friend with so much bitterness and resentment?
Why did he talk of Solaire as if he was an aggressive and dangerous man?
Why did he claim Solaire had hurt Laurentius?
Solaire, his kind and selfless friend.
The man that praised the sun with so much fervor.
The man that worried about what gift he could give to the fire keeper to show her his gratitude.
The man that had prepared for him Estus soup when he was weak.
The man that had looked after him for so long, without ever asking for anything in return.
My friend, what has happened to you?
Oscar halted his thoughts and closed his eyes.
No. I must have faith in you. I know you are strong. Wait for me, Solaire. I'll be with you soon.
He began running toward the entrance of Blighttown.
I will keep my promise.
The merchant grabbed Oscar by the wrist before he could dart off. After recovering from the pull of his abrupt stop, Oscar glared at the merchant.
"Is it you?" The merchant asked him softly. "Are you the friend of that Warrior of Sunlight? The one who is on his pilgrimage to ring the Bells of Awakening?"
Oscar was left speechless.
"How do you know about any of that?" he inquired after he finally found his breath again.
The merchant let go of his wrist.
"Because he told me." The merchant gently put his improvised rucksack back in the floor. "He was sure you would come back to life, but when you didn't, something inside him changed and... Oh lad, I'm so sorry. I didn't recognize you. You were dead for so long. None of us ever expected for you to be still alive."
"I have to go." Oscar whispered. His concern for Solaire grew with every word the merchant said. "I have to find him!"
"Wait!" the merchant swiftly untied the tied corners of the rug, revealing his bundled-up wares. He picked up a sword with a blade covered with sharp crystals. Then, he chose a shield, also riddled with crystals.
Without saying anything, he grabbed Oscar's hand and handed the sword and shield to him. "Here. Take this with you."
"What is this?" Oscar demanded, starting to think that even holding those strange weapons was a mistake. For all he knew, the crystals could be the sign of a deathly curse. "Why are you—"
"They are a sword and a shield, obviously." The merchant answered. "Fragile, but strong. I'm sure it'll prove useful to you in that hellhole you are about to descend into. You weren't really thinking about going there unarmed, were you? One thing is to be bold, and another thing is to be careless."
Oscar slightly resented the observation, though he had to admit the merchant was right. He had been so desperate about going after Solaire that he had forgotten about his lack of a sword and a shield.
"I can't pay for this." Oscar admitted with bitter disappointment. "I've got nothing I can give you in return."
"Don't be dense, lad. I'm not trying to persuade you into buying them, I'm gifting them to you. I did promise your friend I would let you have one of my wares for free, though it turned out to be two instead. Ah, never mind; what is a knight without a sword and a shield, after all? In any case, a promise is a promise."
The merchant swiftly picked up his packed goods and turned his back to Oscar.
"As a merchant and a collector, I always keep my word. Now go lad; go after your friend. But be careful, I don't think he's the same person you used to know. It's very probable that all you'll find of him in Blighttown is his Hollow self."
Without waiting for a reply, the strange merchant went on his way.
"Regardless, I wish you luck."
The merchant's wish did reach Oscar, but by then, he was already climbing down the stairs that led to Blighttown.
"I hate you."
The gigantic lump on his back reacted to his ardent resentment. The parasites that inhabited it, for the first time in decades, squirmed against the insides of his skin.
Eingyi could feel their eager scratches. Their pointy legs stretched his flesh there were they pressed against him, in the same way the heel of an unborn child would do against their mother's womb.
His worms longed to be free from their imprisonment. They longed to be free and kill the Astoran for everything he had done.
For what he is about to do.
If Eingyi didn't hurry, the Astoran would kill the Fair Lady. He was already aiming his blood-soaked sword right at her heart.
The mere sight of it was driving Eingyi to the deepest ends of madness.
"I hate you!"
His scream caught the Astoran's attention. It shattered his stance and his focus, leaving him open to an attack.
If only Kirk wasn't so badly hindered by his injuries, he could have taken the chance to kill the Astoran once and for all.
If only Eingyi could still manifest the power of his inner flame.
If I was stronger, I would have been able to become your most dutiful, loyal warrior. I would have kept you safe from all harm, but I'm weak.
His impotence was like food for his parasites. They fed on it, growing ever more restless inside the confines of his lump. If he didn't keep them under control, his parasites would succeed in breaking free from his flesh.
The act would cost Eingyi his life. In his condition, he knew he would not return from another death. If he departed, it would be for good.
He would never again see the Fair Lady again.
A cold void formed inside his chest.
My Lady. I promised I would be with you for all time. You sacrificed everything to save me. Me, a hated pariah shunned by everyone, even by his fellow pyromancers. My Lady, in this world of death and darkness, you alone showed me kindness. That's why I will protect you, just like your sister did before us... even if that means I must depart from your side forever.
Eingyi found comfort in knowing that his Fair Lady would still have Kirk by her side. The knight would die from his wounds, that was inevitable, but he would be reborn from the bonfire's ashes. The knight of thorns had always been determined and strong in ways Eingyi couldn't fathom.
Eingyi knew he would always remain with the Fair Lady.
Take good care of her for me.
Eingyi looked at Kirk, only to discover he was looking at him as well. The Astoran had disfigured him beyond recognition, but Eingyi was sure he could see a glimmer of pity for him in his grey eyes.
They had hated each other since they had first met, but they had always been partners of a same covenant.
They were the Fair Lady's guardians.
Even now, they were Servants of Chaos.
"You will not harm the Fair Lady!" Eingyi exclaimed, feeling how the top of his lump was eaten away by the hungry maws of his parasites. "I don't care about your reasons. I don't care about your pain! The Fair Lady is worth all the death and sacrifices that are committed for her sake! Your comrade should have been proud that his Humanity was used to ease her suffering! And soon, you'll share his same fate!"
Farewell, my Fair Lady.
Eingyi closed his eyes as his lump spat out the first of his parasites. Soon, the rest would follow, and once they all abandoned him, he would perish.
He did not regret it. As long as his worms killed the Astoran and devoured him whole, Eingyi would die with a smile.
The worm landed in front of Eingyi's face. It splashed over the small puddle of infected pus that formed underneath it; it let out a pitiful cry before going completely stiff.
Eingyi looked in horror at the pathetic parasite he had birthed.
The dead worm had been a feeble, wretched thing. Its lower part was missing. Its brood had devoured it before it had even had the chance to be free.
It was the only one of his parasites Eingyi could release. The rest had gone silent and still inside his lump, as if they had never been awake or alive in the first place.
Eingyi whimpered. Overtaken by despair and frustration, he continued pushing, hurting himself in the process, but nothing other than pus oozed out from his lump.
He slammed his forehead against the floor and began to cry out of control.
"My Lady."
Eingyi's arms, weakened by defeat, succumbed to his weight.
It was the first time he became aware of how heavy his lump truly was.
"I'm so sorry."
Eingyi heard the sizzling murmur of thunder. It came from the Astoran.
He knew what he intended to do.
I couldn't save you.
"Stop!" Kirk roared.
Eingyi closed his eyes.
I couldn't save either of you.
Solaire had underestimated the infected man.
He had believed he was harmless, but he had proved to be a potential great danger if left alive.
He had to kill him, and he would.
Solaire clenched his fist as his Lighting Spear finally took shape. The knight of thorns kept screaming at him.
He was begging for him to spare the life of his comrade.
He was wasting his breath.
Solaire wouldn't show any more mercy on the infected man.
He couldn't forgive him for what he had said.
He couldn't just ignore how he had disregarded Oscar's death as a vulgar sacrifice, as if his beloved friend had only been born into the world to be killed and harvested.
Oscar overcame so much hardship and pain to get here. He was following his dream... and you just took it all away from him! You ruined everything for him!
"You ruined everything for us." Solaire raised his arm over his head and aimed his Lighting Spear at the pathetic, sick man. "And for that, I will never forgive you!"
"Quelaag!"
The woman hugged Solaire's arm and pulled him closer to her just as he threw his powerful miracle. The sudden change of position caused the Lighting Spear's direction to change; it landed with a deafening crash on the chamber's roof, just above the infected man.
A shower of rubble came raining down on him. The falling stones harmed him, but most of his injuries were only scratches and bruises scattered all over his lump.
"Please, sister." The woman whispered to Solaire in his ear. She crossed her arms around his chest, pulling him so close to her that Solaire could feel her heartbeat against his back, even through his chainmail. "Stop this. You promised me, remember? You... did."
Solaire broke free from her embrace effortlessly. With his heart racing, he turned on his heels and plunged his sword forward.
The woman's blood soon covered his sword. It came streaming down the blade, soaking the hilt and the hand that held it.
Underneath them, a black and warm puddle began to form.
It all happened too quickly for any of the three men to react.
It was the knight of thorns who reacted so first. He cried out a scream so loud that his throat must have been left raw and bleeding.
The infected man was next. His own crazed cries of grief mixed with the knight of thorns'. Together, they formed an awful melody that woke Solaire from his trance.
It was then he was forced to witness what he had done.
He had stabbed the woman in the shoulder. The attack had been so forceful that more than half the blade had pierced through her flesh and bone.
Unlike her guardians, she didn't not scream to release her pain. She merely stared at Solaire with her eternally closed eyes.
Very slowly, she rested her healthy hand on the sword. Rather than trying to pull it away, Solaire felt how she was trying to further dig it into her shoulder.
She was too weak to move the sword, and all she accomplished was cutting her palm with the sharp edges of the blade.
"Why, sister?"
The gentle echo of her voice finally silenced the roars of despair of the knight of thorns and the infected man. Then, without letting go of the weapon that had made her bleed, she opened her eyes.
Solaire met a glance without pupils, white and smooth as the rest of the woman's skin. Tears welled up in her eyes of nothingness. Soon, they began to drip down her chin and become one with the dark puddle of her blood on the floor.
"Why do I feel so much pain?" the woman asked. Her silky hand slid down the blade, making its way to the top of Solaire's trembling hand. "Why are you doing this, Quelaag?"
Solaire couldn't answer. His chest was heavy with an emptiness that threatened to bring him down to his knees.
"I don't want it." The woman's nails scratched Solaire's skin tenderly. "I don't want you to do this. I can bear this curse by myself. As long as you are here with me, nothing else matters. I promise I'll be fine. So please, stop hurting others. Please. Don't do this, sister. Don't cause so much needless suffering. Not for me. All this pain, all this death... I don't want it."
Her sobs filled the room and forced Solaire and her two guardians to remain quiet.
"I don't want it. You knew I never wanted this."
She returned her hand to the blade. She pulled the weapon again. Just like in her last attempt, she failed to move the blade even an inch.
"It hurts me... it hurts more than our mother's curse. And if you can't stop, then kill me."
She covered her mouth with her hand and wept freely.
"I don't want it." She continued pleading underneath her bleeding hand. "No more. Not for me."
Solaire let go of his sword.
He didn't have the mind to try to pull it away from her.
He didn't have the heart to act on the woman's words and kill her.
He should have felt free to do it. She had given him her permission; besides, wouldn't he be doing her a favor by ending her miserable life?
Do it.
Solaire forced the thoughts to continue flowing, believing that he could convince himself to go through with the act.
Kill her. Put this abomination out of her misery. You killed her sister, you sentenced her knight to a death he probably won't return from; you injured her guardian, and had she not stopped you, you would have killed him too. You cannot stop now. You don't have the right. Kill her. Kill them all. Do it for Oscar.
He opened his eyes. He hadn't realized he had closed them until the inner echo of his friend's name made his eyelids retreat.
Do it for yourself.
Solaire collapsed on his knees.
His gaze became lost in the pitch-black puddle right before him.
He had caused that blood to flow.
Solaire raised his hands and looked at them. They were tainted with her dark essence too.
He clenched his hands into fists and pressed them against his chest, right where the sun of his tunic had once been.
To crown his already unbearable shame, Solaire felt the warm tickle of his tears on his cheeks as they finally betrayed him.
The disgrace that washed all over him like a storm knew no equal. No previous humiliation could compare.
His mouth opened in a silent sob that made him shudder. When another sob followed, Solaire tried to make himself stop by hiding his face behind his hands.
His fingernails clawed at his scalp and forehead, unable to find another outlet for the boiling hatred unleashed within Solaire.
It was directed at none other than himself.
What have I done?
He separated his hands from his face and stared at his bloody palms. Some of his tears fell on the blood, washing it away like rain would do with mud.
Oscar.
One more sob escaped his chest. This one was loud enough to be heard across the chamber.
How could I take your death and transform it into something so horrible?
Solaire screamed, fearing his heart would burst if he didn't.
How could I cause all this death and destruction and say I was doing it for you? How could I believe any of this would make the pain stop?
Solaire chocked on his tears and slammed his fists on the ground.
He hated his selfishness, he hated how pitiful his thoughts were.
Even if causing all this chaos would have made things right... even if all of this could have brought you back to life somehow— it would be no excuse. This is not what you would have wanted. This is not what I want. And yet, I did it. I went through with this. It was all my choice.
"Quelaag?" The woman tried to touch Solaire with her healthy hand, but he was out of her reach. "Don't cry, sister. I'm sorry if I hurt you."
Solaire looked at her against his will.
Regardless of her curse and her illness, she was not an abomination.
She was a woman.
And he had hurt her.
He had tried to kill her.
His sword remained stuck in her shoulder.
It was the eternal proof of his unforgiveable sins.
Solaire looked away, like the coward that he was. Inadvertently, he fixed his attention on the infected man instead.
For the servant, Solaire didn't exist. He had only eyes for his Fair Lady.
Solaire then thought about looking over his shoulder, but he didn't have the courage to gaze at the knight of thorns.
He was unnaturally silent.
Was he even alive, or had he already perished and would be reborn from the bonfire at any moment?
Solaire didn't know, and he didn't bother to find out. Even if the knight had Hollowed before dying and didn't return at all, it would mean nothing for Solaire.
His vengeance, his hatred, his grief, they all felt meaningless when compared to the magnitude of his failure.
Oscar had once told him that one's worth was like faith, and that it was only when tested in the direst of circumstances, that one could know how firm and strong they really were.
If that was true, then Solaire had just proven he was worthless, and that all his codes, values and his faith had always been nothing but a lie.
I did not become a knight to hurt innocent people. I did not come to Lordran to cause only misery and death. Then, why did I still do it? Why did I allow myself to fall so low?
Solaire lowered his head until his forehead touched the floor.
What have I done? How has any of his made me more of a knight, of a man?
"Quelaag, where does it hurt?" The woman kept asking. "It's alright, sister. Everything's fine... I still have you, don't I?"
Solaire wept, with nothing else other than the woman's voice to keep him company.
All that he did, he did for her.
His life, his being, his actions, his love, his fate. They all belonged to his Lady.
It was not a tribute he paid in exchange for a blessing, nor was it a punishment he was forced to endure.
His duty to the Fair Lady had always been his choice, and above all, his salvation.
To become her knight was an honor Kirk had never deserved.
To be her protector was the only purpose of his life.
My Lady, all I ever wanted was to help you. I wanted to stop your suffering. As your knight, that was my duty.
Kirk looked at the Astoran. He saw how his Lady, with his sword still stuck in her shoulder, attempted to comfort him.
He wondered if he had looked the same when he had first joined her covenant and had sworn his sword to her. Kirk had broken down before his Lady, and she, in her innocence and mercy, had soothed him by resting her forehead against his.
"Quelaag." The Lady said, just like she always did. "Quelaag."
"I don't want this."
The memory of her words stabbed Kirk's heart, making it bleed anew.
"I never wanted this."
"My Lady." Kirk muttered as tears went down his swollen, deformed face. "Quelaan."
He had killed so many Undeads. He had extracted so much Humanity from them. They always ended up going Hollow before his eyes. Not once had Kirk showed mercy, no matter how much they had begged for their lives.
And he had done so with pride, satisfied with knowing that the Humanity he took from those selfish bastards would make Quelaan's pain go away, if only for a short moment.
As long as Quelaan felt better, as long as she was allowed a moment of peace and comfort, Kirk would have been willing to kill every other Undead in Lordran if he had to.
His Lady was worthy of all the death that was committed for her sake, just like Eingyi had said.
She was worth all the Humanity that cursed land had to offer.
But you don't want this. You never did.
Kirk looked at Eingyi, his fellow servant of Chaos. He was alive, but he remained completely still on the floor, as stiff as the dead, half-eaten worm he had birthed.
Would he go Hollow?
It was a question Kirk couldn't answer, not when he too felt at the brink of losing his mind to the curse.
We killed to keep you alive. All that we did was for your own good. What would you have us do, Quelaan? To let you die?
Kirk stopped his thoughts.
What the hell was he thinking?
Did he dare to imply that letting Quelaan die was what he should have done?
Had he been meant to just watch as her agony increased each day without doing anything about it?
No, no! Quelaan! You do not know what's best for you! You are too ill to know what you are saying. That's why you have Eingyi, your sister and me to look after you. They, we... I am your knight! I vowed to protect you and keep you alive! If I can't do this, then what purpose do I have left? Without you, what reason do I have to exist?
Kirk glued his chin to his chest. In any other circumstances, he would have hated himself for crying like a pathetic, sentimental Astoran. Deep down, he resented the fact that he was shedding tears with as much intensity as the Warrior of Sunlight.
But he had no place in his heart for embarrassment or bitterness. All that he felt was regret.
Not for the Undeads he had killed, though their deaths were not as silent on his mind as they had once been.
Yet, what truly plagued him was the truth he had been forced to confront.
I never bothered to follow your true wishes. None of us did. We knew, we always did, but we kept fighting for you. They, us... I latched on to you like a parasite. I claimed that everything I did, I did for you, but was it a lie? Has everything I've done been only for myself?
Kirk tried to find an answer, but the more he looked for it, the more lost he became. He was so caught up in his despair that he forgot about the Astoran.
He did not remember his presence until he spoke again.
"I'm sorry." The Astoran said, scratching the floor as if he wanted to snap his nails from his fingers. Then, very slowly and with his arm trembling, he raised one hand and softly grabbed Quelaan's. "I'm sorry."
Kirk hated him then more than he had done during their battle and his torture.
He hated to see how he held Quelaan's hand.
How dared he touch her after what he had done?
His sinful sword was still trapped in Quelaan's shoulder. The wound was not lethal, but if he believed that made his actions more forgivable, he was wrong.
Kirk despised him, and if body wasn't so badly maimed, he would have killed him at that very moment. But before that, he would have extracted from him all his Humanity and—
"Quelaag. It's alright." Quelaan said, caressing the back of the Astoran's hand with her thumb. "You are here by my side."
His Lady's voice cured Kirk of his fury. His hatred for the Astoran remained. He doubted it would ever leave his heart, not even if he truly regretted having hurt Quelaan and no longer posed a threat for her safety.
I will never forgive you for what you did., just like you can never forgive me for killing your friend.
Kirk closed his eyes.
But I won't kill you. I can't kill you... not for your sake, but for that of my Lady's.
Kirk knew he would die soon. His impending death did not trouble him at all.
He couldn't say the same about what would happen once he was reborn from the bonfire's ashes. It felt like he would return to a world where he no longer had a role to play.
A world where he could no longer do for Quelaan what he, Eingyi and Quelaag had done since time immemorial.
Quelaan, my lady. I don't know what I can do for you, and the idea of not being able to ease your pain scares me more than I'm willing to admit.
Kirk opened his eyes. The Astoran was now holding Quelaag's hand with both of his hands. He had raised his head from the floor, but he kept kneeling in front of her, like a sinner seeking absolution.
"Your hands. I can feel them." Quelaan said. She smiled. "They are warm."
It was then Kirk realized what he wanted to do for as long as his mind remain free from the curse.
I want to make you smile. Quelaan, I want to be by your side. I want to be the companion you deserve, not the killer I thought you needed.
Was it wrong for a murderer like him to wish for another chance?
Perhaps, Kirk thought, it was.
But as long as fate allows me to be alive, I want to be here with you. Even if I don't deserve it.
Kirk rested his head against the wall behind him and prepared for death to take him.
Can I stay with you, Quelaan?
This time, it was Kirk's turn to smile.
My Lady.
The frantic echo of metallic steps rushing from the entrance snapped Kirk from his peaceful passing.
He could only catch a swift glance of a dull set of golden armor before the stranger that wore it announced his entrance by attacking the Astoran.
The Astoran had reacted to the loud steps of the invader, but he was unarmed and unprepared to fully block the enemy's sword. Much like the Astoran had done with Kirk, the invader sunk the blade of his curved weapon on the Astoran's shoulder.
He tried to finish the Astoran off by slitting his throat with a slash of his other sword, but the Astoran, injured as he was, managed to stop the impeding attack.
The Astoran held the invader's arm, locking himself with his enemy in a struggle where neither seemed to concede.
"I should have known you wouldn't have the courage to do it!" The invader roared at the Astoran. "I should have known you weren't man enough!"
The invader kicked the Astoran in the torso to free his sword from his shoulder. The Astoran fell to the floor on his back. Kirk could hear him grunting as he held his bleeding shoulder with one hand.
Kirk had not remained idle in the meanwhile. He had forced his weak, moribund body to move forward. He had not the strength or blood necessary in him to stand up, but he succeeded in getting his chest to the floor.
"My Lady." He stuttered as he tried to crawl his way to the invader. Without the aid of his arms, his chin became his main support. "Quelaan."
The invader considered Kirk so little of a threat that he didn't even look at him. For all Kirk knew, he wasn't aware of his presence at all.
"Leave this place!" Eingyi screamed. He, just like Kirk, was also trying to make his way toward the invader. "Stay away from her!"
He was ignored as cruelly as Kirk had been.
For the invader, no one but the Astoran seemed to exist.
"You useless idiot. Incompetent, unwanted moron. Now I'll do what I should have done the moment you freed me from my cell." The invader said to the Astoran. He glared at him with toxic resentment. With an awful scowl twisting his features, he raised his sword and began walking toward the Astoran. "Tell Oscar I send my regards."
Before he could deliver the killing blow, Quelaan took hold of the invader's arms.
It was at that moment where Kirk felt how a gelid emptiness spread from his chest to his entire body like a blizzard.
"No." His plea started as a whisper and evolved into a scream. "Quelaan!"
But his Lady, if she could truly hear him, retained all her attention on the invader.
"Quelaag."
The invader dedicated to her a gaze so baffled and longing that, for a blissful second, Kirk was sure he wouldn't be able to harm her.
The next moment, the illusion was broken, and the invader easily freed himself from Quelaan's grasp and stabbed her in the stomach.
Quelaan tried to scream, but the demon slashed his sword up her torso, cutting her open all the way up to her throat.
The monster then forced his hand into her open chest and ripped out her beating heart.
No, not her heart.
Her soul.
Or was it?
Kirk could know.
Kirk didn't care.
Nothing in the world mattered anymore. He screamed, he cried, he slammed his forehead against the floor until he broke his skull.
He bit off his own tongue with the few teeth he had left.
But nothing helped, nothing eased the agony that had taken over his soul.
An absolute madness pierced his being as if it was covered with metal thorns.
"Quelaan!" Kirk's monstrous voice rang across Blighttown like the roar of a beast being slaughtered. "Quelaan!"
The voice became an inhuman growl without reason.
The knight of thorns became a Hollow that, blind to everything else other than his grieving madness, managed to stand up from the floor. With one of his arms twisted in an unnatural position, and the other hanging from his shoulder by thin threads of muscle and tendons, the Hollow charged at the invader.
Behind them, the corpse of the woman the Hollow's past self had sworn to protect hung limply, her bleeding torso bent forwards above the death spider that was her lower body.
Her white eyes without pupils remained open, looking down at a floor she had never been able to see.
The attack on the Astoran.
Kirk's Hollowing.
The ongoing battle between his former comrade and the cursed invader.
None of it mattered for Eingyi.
Truth was that the whole world could have sunk into darkness, and he still wouldn't have cared.
Everything for him had come to a stop the moment he had witnessed the murderer of his Fair Lady.
Eingyi couldn't raise his voice to scream, nor he could use his eyes to cry.
He had clawed them out himself, in a desperate attempt to free his mind from the awful vision before him. Blood streamed down his cheeks, filling his mouth with its coppery taste.
"Lady Quelaan."
The name of the Fair Lady came together with the gnawing sounds of his flesh being ferociously devoured. The parasite inside his lump fed on Eingyi thoroughly.
The pain of being eaten alive was a welcome distraction; yet, it did not compare with the grief that Eingyi felt during the last moments of his life.
By the time the parasite emerged from his lump, strong and alive unlike the dead brethren it had devoured, Eingyi was already dead.
The parasite stared at its deceased host with its glowing, red eyes.