The Undead leaned exhausted against the wall and looked at the scene of carnage around him. Every one of his attackers lay on the ground, some in pieces and some still twitching. The knight's armor was torn on places and he had suffered several cuts and bruises but nothing serious. As his apparel was spattered with grime and blood a crimson sheen covered his blade. Looking around to spot any other attackers the Undead raised his sword in anticipation. If he wanted to escape he would have to find the crow again and leave, as there were likely more enemies in hiding.
But out of the corner of his eye he saw a lone figure limping into the open. The Undead sighed in relief. It was Oscar of Astora. "Ah, it's you... was wondering where you'd gone." Although his memories were fragmented after many near-death encounters the Undead remembered being released from his cell by Oscar. He walked to the warrior who freed him from his imprisonment and held out his hand. "There may be more Hollowed lurking about. We should leave while we can." Oscar stopped in his tracks and remained silent. The Undead slowed down but continued to approach the knight. "Can you hear me, friend?" Still nothing. Halting, the Undead peered into Oscar's visor. Behind the knight's faceplate, his eyes were blank and lifeless. The skin was waxy and distorted.
The Undead's heart stopped. A memory suddenly came rushing back into his mind. An image of Oscar lying mortally wounded and murmuring his last words. "Now I must bid farewell… I would hate to harm you after death… So, go now… And thank you…"
The shocked knight knew what would happen a split second before it did, and he raised his broadsword. But Oscar had already thrust his own blade at the Undead's torso. The sword ripped through his crude, patched-together armor but was deflected enough to slash across the knight's ribs instead of through his gut. But the pain caused the Undead to double over and the creature that was once Oscar of Astora smashed him to the ground with his shield. The Undead rolled over and blocked another strike with his own Balder shield. He staggered to his feet and did his best to ignore the pain in his right side.
"You saved my life, Oscar. I don't want to fight you…" The Hollowed knight slashed at him but this time the Undead's sword was there to block his. "But I will if I must!" The Undead shoved Oscar's weapon to his left and delivered a solid kick to his foe's chest. The armor worn by the knight of Astora did its work but he was knocked back a good distance. Immediately the Undead followed up with a blow to Oscar's knee but was blocked. The two knights exchanged quick strikes but neither was able to wound the other.
A feral growl came from Oscar and after parrying a thrust from the Undead he tried to use his shield as a bludgeon again. Seeing an opening, his enemy leaned just far enough to avoid the attack and stab the gap in Oscar's plate armor at the shoulder. The Undead felt a morbid satisfaction as he pulled the broadsword back and a spurt of red came out. In retaliation Oscar swung upwards and drew blood from the Undead's cheek. He stumbled back to a hall with Oscar in pursuit. With a safe distance between them the Undead weighed his options. Even when Hollowed, the knight of Astora was in a better condition to fight than he was. Fending off all the other zombies and soldiers had left him tired. He took a swig from the Estus Flask, sighing as it healed at least some of his wounds. But the Undead still had to find a way past Oscar's superior armor and weapons.
If I lure him outside the light may blind him for a moment. Who knows how long Oscar has been down here in the dark? The Undead retreated to a higher level of the Asylum and sure enough Oscar followed. Several chunks of rubble nearly tripped him over but he minded his surroundings. Finally they reached the room where the Undead killed the Asylum Demon. The door to outside was within reach. Before he could reach it however, Oscar charged him head on without warning. They crashed to the floor and the Undead's shield fell away. He swung wildly but only scratched Oscar's faceplate. The knight struck hammered at the Undead's broadsword and after a feeble parry, the rusty blade shattered.
But the Undead was not about to give up and seized Oscar's shield at the rim. He pulled and managed to knock his enemy off balance. With a heave the Undead found himself on top of the knight. He threw the shield away and with a yell he brought the broken hilt of his sword down to Oscar's throat. A spray of blood gushed from the man's throat. "I'm sorry, my friend…" The Undead regretted what he was forced to do, but he was left with no choice. He tore off Oscar's helmet and sliced what was left of his broadsword through his neck.
The head of Oscar rolled two or three feet away, and the Undead forced himself not to look. Standing up to catch his breath he murmured some last words to Oscar even if the man could not hear him. "I rang the Bell, just as you asked. But we were both deceived. There is only one way our curse can end: in death. I'm sorry." The Undead winced as his abdomen tightened. He looked down to see the cause and groaned. The sword wielded by Oscar in life and undeath was protruding from his gut and a red stain was spreading quickly. The Undead reached for the Estus flask and opened it but his hands were growing numb. He was only able to drink several drops before he collapsed.
A small object fell from a pouch he was carrying. It was the White Sign Soapstone that the knight gave him outside the Undead Parish. What was his name, Solaire? Yes, that was it. You forget these things after losing yourself so many times. The Undead's vision was darkening as he reached for the Soapstone weakly. Then a bright light obscured his vision and he heard a familiar voice far off.
"Oh my… Don't move, friend! You are safe now!"
...
The first thing he felt was an intense heat. Standing in the midst of a hollowed out mountain the Undead looked around him. A bonfire rested at his feet and the flames were spreading to the room around him. The burning sensation overtook the Undead and he closed his eyes. Opening them again he felt the heat disappear. Now he was in a dimly lit cavern. Kingseeker Frampt, Darkstalker Kaathe, and other primordial serpents were there. The creatures were bowing their heads in homage to him, and outside the Undead heard people chanting a name.
"William! Hail the Dark Lord, William!" The Undead went outside and looked at the landscape around him. Around the mountain was cold and desolate wasteland, but a great host of warriors cheered at his approach. The chants grew louder, even as storm clouds blotted out the sun and everything went black.
"Wake up!" With a cry, the Undead sat up and looked around him. He was lying on a wool blanket near a cliff. A fire was crackling nearby and next to him was Solaire of Astora. "You?" Solaire pushed him onto his back again. "Try to relax. We don't want you reopening that nasty wound of yours," Wound? The Undead felt his body and noticed his armor was gone. When he noticed a bandage on his lower torso the memory of what happened at the Asylum came back to him. "Where… Where are we, Solaire?" The knight gestured to several graves nearby. "Still at the Asylum, my friend. I didn't have time to get you somewhere else, you were bleeding out too quickly."
The Undead did not respond. Instead he looked out to see if the sun was still out. There were clouds gathering, and the mountains were capped with snow but there was no army. There were no serpents. It was just a dream. Or was it? "Solaire, do you remember the last time we saw each other? I was carrying an object called the Lordvessel." Solaire kindled the flames while responding. "Yes. What was that thing anyway?" The Undead asked, "It was an object I was supposed to use to gain access to this place… A place called the Kiln of the First Flame."
Solaire gasped. "So the prophecy is true. An undead is destined to keep the Flame burning and save our world." The Chosen chuckled bitterly. "And that's the problem. To do so, I would be forced to sacrifice myself. But the curse of undeath would not end. Maybe a few centuries will pass, but in time I will become Hollow. And the Flame with begin to fade again. The prophecy was a lie, Solaire. The only other path before us is to let the Flame die out. And a new age would begin. The age of Dark. The age of Man." This caused Solaire to fall silent for a moment. When he spoke again, there was a tone of fear in his voice that the Undead had never heard before. "This cannot be true."
Irritated by Solaire's naiveté he shouted, "Why shouldn't it be? Is it really that much of a shock to you, knowing that we were just pawns in a bigger game?" The other knight shook his head. "You cannot say that! After everything that has happened, we can't give up now! You were set free for a reason, and if you refuse mankind is doomed. And I will never find my sun!" There it was again, that blind and stupid delusion that Solaire had touted since they first me. "You damned fool. That's never going to happen! All of this…" The Undead gestured around them and up at the sun, "…It's nothing."
The growing lump in his throat stopped him, but not before he choked out one last, "Nothing…" Solaire tried to find something to say, but from the look of things he was not having much luck. Instead the two weary warriors sat quietly while the fire burned out, their future uncertain.
Author's Note: Now we have some context. My story is beginning after the point where the players and the Undead learn about the Primordial Serpents' plans and the truth of the First Flame. Our cursed hero has just had to endure not only this revelation, but kill the hero who freed him in the beginning.
I have to say, finding out the truth about the Flame and the prophecy was very frustrating at first. So naturally the Undead in this story is having a serious crisis of conscience. And poor Solaire, he's pretty bummed knowing that unless the Undead makes his choice, he will never find his sun! But this tale has just begun, and both our heroes still have a long road ahead of them.
P.S. Remember that name, 'William'.