Chapter one: Risen Ashes

Hehehehehe. You should try guessing who the narrator in this chapter is. Miles of backstory to be had here.

The hollows came as quickly as rain, one after another, all to their deaths. I whirled through their ranks, robe billowing, hacking them apart with my scimitar. A faint green glow pulsed around it, building it's attack until they were all gone. I pulled my sword out of the last one, leaving it to topple to the ground. I pressed on, coming to a door. Pushing it open, feeling the timbers groan under the palms of my hands, I could see gray stone on the other side.I stepped inside, looking around. The place looked like a tomb, gray stone bricks lining the walls, a musty, old smell pervading the area. Inches of dust coated the ground. A low chest was up against one wall. I stepped forward, unchallenged. I prodded the chest uncertainly with my sword. It didn't respond. I flung it open. A flood of dust spewed forth. I felt myself wheeze. Dust isn't too good for lungs. I plunged my hand into the blackness, and grabbed the item in the chest.

It was made of a cool metal. I pulled it out, wiping dust from the surface. The bell gleamed a golden color, and some sort of green stone was inlaid in spiraling patterns. I plunged it into my pocket. I would clean it up once I got back to Firelink. Spinning round, cloak flaring, I exited, slamming the door. A short while later, I was back at the fire. I held my hand out, feeling the world around me dissolve into ash.

I materialized in a cloud of ash at the center of Firelink Shrine. I greeted the Firekeeper, dispelling my sword.

"Have you seen the Unkindled, any of them?"
She nodded.
"One of them left for the High Wall, not hours ago. ...You may want to hurry, if you're to catch him."
I turned and ran, as she sat back on her stone bench.

A clashing, screaming sound of metal. Sparks flew, struck from their place by stone. Two figures whirled and crashed together, creating the fearful noise. Bands of fire, and some, dark purple substance rippled through the air, following the dancing path of twin scimitars. The Dancer waltzed across the room, swinging her swords in a mesmerizing pattern. The other, smaller figure, clad in black armor, ducked and rolled under all of her blows, occasionally cutting deep into her armor, which bled, scattering droplets across the floor. She flinched as a particularly deep cut wound it's way across her thigh. They fought, one never seeming to gain an advantage. SHe was wearing down, though, her attacks losing speed, the frequency she was hurt increasing. Her hand darted out, snatching the figure, the other hand raising her fiery sword, going to drive it into her attacker's skull. They descended, smashing into-

"STOP!"
The voice echoed around the hall, coming from the open door. The Dancer froze, listening. It had sounded familiar. A figure in a gray cloak over tough leather armor stepped into the room. His hat hung low over his face. He held a blazing green scimitar. The fighter struggled, dropping from the Dancer's grip. SHe was still looking at the figure in gray, but immediately began to raise her sword to finish the fighter. Another cry.
"Think about who you are!"
She didn't hear, that time. She began the downward plunge of the sword, when a bell sounded. It wasn't loud, but it filled the whole room. Twin clatters echoed across the hall, fiery and darks swords both falling to the floor. The Dancer was staring at the bell. I held it aloft. It gleamed, the clapper still swinging, throwing golden light across the room. Her armored hands began shaking, softly. I slowly approached, putting the bell away. She backed away, but slower than I was approaching. I reached out a hand. She had both hers close to her chest, but slowly one crept towards my own. Then she darted away again. I slowly approached her again.
"...Hello."
She was still skittish, staying away from my hand, sometimes aggressive, but the bell helped her approach, even if it did nothing to help her fear. Eventually, my hand made contact. She growled, but did not retreat. I let my fingers slowly creep up toward her palm, and towards her index finger. Her feet skittered away nervously, but I kept a tight grip on her hand, and she calmed a bit. My fingers reached the base of her index finger, and I held her gaze. She growled. I squeezed the finger. She skittered, her feet moving away. I held her gaze, and pulled a little at the ring which was half rusted to the armor. She flinched, and her right hand drifted toward her left, which was pulled closer. I kept my grip, though. The black, glassy stone was cool against the palm of my hand. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my temple. Another tug. She was antsy, panicky. She once again started to pull away, but my grip on the ring and her hand forced her to stay still. She pulled in different directions, slowly moving in a semicircle. The ring had slid down her finger slowly. The place where it had been was rusted and bleeding. She tugged, trying to get away without taking the ring, eying the swords which were lying across the field. I stopped for a moment, and put a hand on her shoulder. She made a low whine.

I once again tugged the ring. It scraped across the metal of her finger, not wanting to giver her up. Her feet tried to slip away, but she was caught. Her other hand twitched. She badly wanted to knock me away, I could tell. But she didn't. She allowed the ring to get to the tip of her finger, and yanked her hand back, throwing me on the ground.

Her metal, and the flesh underneath, were bleeding where I had taken the ring, and in multiple places where the Unkindled had cut her. She was avoiding me now, backing away across the chapel, holding her left hand. I had the ring itself cupped in my palm. The black stone swirled, before I put it in my pocket. It would take a bit for the ring's effect to ware off. I would heal her then. She had retrieved her swords now, and had started back toward me. She swung, and I rolled away, but she paused. She tried again, this time not even actually coming near me. She dropped it, confused. Evidently something was wrong, because she curled up in a ball. I cautiously tiptoed over, and laid a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, and made a growling noise, but didn't do anything about it. Her left hand came out of its hiding place, and with the sharp metal point on the armor of her fingertip, she scoured something in the floor.

wHy it gone?
I did a double take. She had already recovered some language. Or perhaps she had already had it.

"Why is what gone? The ring?"
My voice was calm, reassuring. Or at least I hoped it was. She shook her head.

The feelIng

I didn't know what she was talking about, so I shrugged.

"...It probably had something to do with your ring."
I didn't know what else to say, either, so I was quiet after that. I slowly took the bell and put it on the ground in front of her. The veil that she had had as long as I had know her was still draped over her back, though it was tattered from years of work it was not designed for. I squeezed her shoulder. She remained curled up, gangly arms and legs wrapped around her. She appeared almost like a cat taking a nap. A very large cat. I sat beside her.

She eventually took the bell, and put it into some compartment that I couldn't see. I heard a sniff from inside the helmet. A tiny stream of water was running out of the joint between her neck and her head. I patted her shoulder, and she wrapped her hand around my arm. There was a rasping from inside the helmet, before a voice that hadn't been used in years issued forth.
"...why...you...back?"
This was followed by a coughing fit, which shook her body. I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed my arm. I waited for it to end before answering.

"...Someone told me you were in trouble."

"...thought...you...dead."
Again, I waited for the coughing to stop before replying.

"...I didn't know you were alive, either. And first, I had to get your chime. You'd have killed them, otherwise."

She was silent, and leaned against me. I almost fell over, but I didn't. I pet her side, my fingers

"...can you feel? Through the metal?"
She nodded. I shuddered a little, thought I tried not to let her see. What had the ring done to her? There was still gentle crying from inside the mask. I was still holding her hand. She rasped for a moment, trying to find words.
"...they...they...killed him...they killed Vordt..."

There was coughing, intermixed with hiccups this time. The flow of tears had increased. They shimmered, shifting colors like her tattered veil and cloak. I didn't know what to say. Her brother had been one of the only things keeping her sane for the past years. The first thing I felt was a sense of overpowering anger. Vordt had been my next most important charge, after her.

"...I should have let you kill them."

She was sobbing now. She hadn't heard me. I squeezed her shoulder, realizing that she probably was feeling the same thing. The next emotion was overwhelming guilt. I hadn't been there for the pair, and he had paid the price. I had failed them.

...I couldn't show it, though. She needed me now.
"...I'm sorry...I didn't know."
She pressed very close. This was probably the first human contact she had had in years now, not counting the Pontiff. I was half convinced he wasn't human, anyway. He had turned her into what she was now, and didn't let her speak, if she was even able to when she had had the ring on. He loved the sound of his own wagging tongue. She relished the contact, feeling like a real person again, even if the circumstances were miserable ones. I was leaning up against her thigh, the heat she gave off from inside more than offsetting the chill in the air produced by her armor, and the surrounding weather. I gently ran my hand across the metal surface, over the cuts and rents in the armor. The blood had started to clot, but her body couldn't repair metal.

"...If you'd let me have the chime for a while, I could heal you."
She reached inside the liner of her cloak and drew it out. The cloak was terribly ill fitted, probably because it was never designed to account for enormous changes in proportion and height. I took the old bell, and rang it, reciting a tale under my breath. The golden light of the miracle spread, surrounding us both, healing the wounds in her skin without a mark. She sighed.

In a few minutes, I could feel the rumbling sound of her sleeping. She deserved it, too. I recon she hadn't had any in awhile.

"...Goodnight, Emily."