"One was a wayward knight on a search that brought him to the world's end. In the smoldering ash he found naught the answers of which he sought but found the burden of a dying world that desperately clawed at an age long since gone. He too clung to the fiery embers that had birthed him, that gnawed and scorched his flesh. And in the end, he turned his back upon the very gods themselves, frightened by the prospects that were afforded for his efforts."
"Fear not the darkness my friend…"
"And let the feast…"
"begin…"
Time is but a convoluted and fickle thing in the Lands of Lothric. The fabric of ages past weave and converge into themselves, forming an entirely new entity. The land is disfigured with the monuments of ages past and kingdoms who clung to the age of fire, frightened by the biting creatures that awaited the darkening of the age of the gods. These kingdoms were nothing more than monuments to their own age, now serving as the catacombs of past lords, visited only by the wind that blew through cracked windows and broken stone. They stood persistently against the ash dunes that now dominated the landscape.
"The world began without knowledge, and without knowledge will it end."
"Dost not this ring clear and true?"
"Fear not the darkness my friend."
"And let the feast…"
"begin…"
Upon one of the ashen crags that jutted out of the barren landscape stood one such monument to a bygone era, symbolizing the greed of one of the gods himself. It served as a beckoning point for one such creature. A creature born from the great deceit of Gwyn.
It was born from the decedents of the true inheritors of the world and forged in the crucible of its own failure to take on the mantle given to them by Gwyn. It was reborn through the fire and ashes that had scarred and branded them, resurrected only in times of dire necessity.
"And so, despite his immense power, he lived in fear."
"Of a delicate thing, little more than ash."
"That one day his own home may become enveloped and swallowed by his own creation."
"Fear not the darkness my friend."
"And let the feast…"
"begin…"
The wind whistled and howled through the pillars of ashen columns that once housed the kiln of the first flame.
Swords of ages past, belonging to the unworthy laid stuck in the earth, burned to smoldering black iron and steel.
In the center of the arena stood a figure, alone, staring off into the distant peaks across the barren landscape. Clouds of ash dancing to the wind in the valley below the darkening sky.
He was clad in the same burial gear he had had before he was first scarred by fire.
It was a knightly armor that had served him well both in this life as unkindled ash, and in the previous life as a young lad.
It was of polished steel that would have at one time glistened in the sun. A steel helm covered his face, protecting him from physical blows, but not from the horrors he had seen.
A sword made from blackened steel hung from his scabbard. The blade was inscribed with a long-forgotten language, its helm was formed in the shape of twisted horns.
His shield was large and formed from blackened steel. The meaning of the crest on the front of the shield was lost to both its owner and time itself.
How long ago it had been since he had died the first time he could not remember.
Why he could not speak, he could not remember.
Who he was, he could not remember.
Nor could he remember what his own name was.
He was nothing more than a lad who had been given the title of being "The Ashen One."
As he contemplated upon the journey that had led him here, the blue scarf that hung around his neck failed in the wind.
He thought back to all the people he had met on his journey.
About how he was a kind-hearted fool to all those he tried to help.
Greirat.
Seigward.
Siris.
Mirrah.
Anri and Horace.
He had wanted to save everyone. The more he tried to help, the more he lost. For no one could have foretold the consequences of his good intentions.
And in the end, he could not even save himself, from the fate that greeted him at the journey's end. For before him laid the first flame.
And the duty of the unkindled laid in their own sacrifice upon its fire.
He pondered this before setting out into the valley below and into the mountains above.
Turning his back on the duty entrusted to him and into the ashes of the old world.
He began wondering through the valley, as ash began to cover his armor in soot. The wind howling at him to turn back and face his own destiny.
At the foot of a large mountain he began to climb, his sword serving as a walking stick. Rhythmically stabbing into the ash with each step.
Upon nearing the top of the mountain, a root caught his metallic boot, sending him into a free fall further and further down into a deep, dark hole.
His decent abruptly halted with a loud thud and clicking of his suit of armor as he hit the ground.
Looking around himself he could see what appeared to be a yellow flower bed illuminated by the hole in the ceiling he had just fallen from.
This sight greatly confused him, for he had not seen such flowers before in his life, nor had he seen such small delicate things.
A newfound curiosity began within him as to where he was.
The wind that had filled his ears was gone now, and only the deafening silence of the cave greeted him.
Beyond the flower bed only darkness met his initial gaze
Looking to his front, upon further inspection, he noticed a path and began to follow it.
As he walked a voice broke through the silence.
"Howdy!"
[Author's note: Hey everyone I'm finally back after completing probably the most writing intensive semester of my entire life and a biology capstone, but I'm finally back. Some things I wanted to update you all about: the first few chapters are going to be updated (as its been long overdo...) and need a bit of a face lift; also new chapters will be coming out for as long as possible (till I go back to school in mid January) so don't worry about that; One of this story's very own fans has liked this story so much that he's created his own artwork for the story (Disco 9) you can find him on deviant art. Never had I thought that so many people would have liked this little story of mine and I'm extremely appreciative of you all and your feedback on the story and for your own creations. Everything you guys have had to say has made be a better writer and have made this story what it is today. My thanks to all of you who follow the story, and I'll be working my hardest to try and finish this up for you guys in the coming weeks.]
-Francis E. Deck Esq