In the days that followed, he spent more time talking to Yuria.

She'd be happy to see him, but she also always seemed slightly nervous. Her eyes would follow him closely as he came and went. When he sat down before her, she'd give a slight smile, but only a slight one.

She told him about Old Boletaria, and he learned a lot from her. The other survivors were either from high society or travelers from far away. Stockpile Thomas was the only one contrary to this, but he had been a simple farmer, and he knew nothing about the world aside from the family and home that he had fled.

Yuria, however, knew all sorts of things. She had been in Boletaria a long time, apparently, and she had traveled throughout it. She'd seen the Valley of Defilement, the Isle of Storms, the Land of the Giants, and many other places that the Archstones didn't lead.

"Is it really true?" he asked her. "That they'd consume human souls the same way a man drinks water? Honestly, it's almost sickening."

"Yes, they did…but be careful in how you condemn them," she said.

"Me?" he asked. "I'm using these souls because I have to. How else am I supposed to defeat Demons?"

"And how else were they supposed to build their houses?" she asked. "How were they supposed to feed their families or fight off the vile animals that attacked them by night? That's what they would have said. I think it's what many of them would still say, even after seeing what has happened."

He was silent, after that.

Generally, their conversations flowed very well, better than any he'd had with anyone else since arriving here. She was sometimes timid, but other times she would speak very plainly, and he began to realize that one had to do with the other. Within her there was something almost fierce, but she hid it behind sighs and hesitation. He saw it, sometimes, when she turned her head the right way, or when she thought he wasn't watching.

It intrigued him.

So he'd talk to her more, and soon his hand felt hers, once, gently. His grip solidified, however, when she didn't fight it, and when she instead gripped back, a relief took him then, and his hand intertwined with hers.

Everyone else in the Nexus could see it, after a while. Everyone except the Maiden in Black. But she heard it, in their tones as they spoke and in the words they chose to exchange. As time went on, she slowly began to stop having conversations with her Champion, and eventually she would only speak to him when he desired to improve himself using the Souls. She said nothing, but began to spend more time lighting, and re-lighting the candles, even when they were burning strong.

Her Champion did not notice, however, he continued on, and while he still fought, he began to spend more and more time inside the Nexus. He began to grow more articulate. His identity began to reshape again, and he started to heal.

One day, when his senses had almost entirely returned to him, he asked Yuria, "How did you come to travel so much?"

"I could not stay anywhere too long. It was…necessary," she said.

"Why?"

She looked away, and he thought she wasn't going to answer.

"The truth is, I'm no ordinary woman. I am a mage."

"…like Freke."

She shook her head, "No, not at all like Freke. I practice a very different art from his."

"How?"

She took a deep breath, "Truthfully? I am a Witch."

"But I still don't understand the difference."

"It's very easy to explain," she said. "Freke's power comes from human souls. It's the result of human potential. Mine…however…my power comes from Demon's Souls."

"But how could you draw power from Demons before the fog? Weren't there no Demons?"

"There are always Demons," she said. She looked up at the Candle Maiden, wandering up and down the stairs. "She was always here, wasn't she?"

He remembered his conversation with the Maiden about Demons.

"How do you define what a Demon is?" he asked her.

"That is an ugly truth," she said. "Do you want to hear it?"

"I've seen many ugly things. Ugly truths will not do me any worse."

"Alright then," she said. "As far as I can tell, any human who has consumed enough souls becomes a Demon…they often mutate, become a being that looks nothing like what they once were. They were all humans once, those Demons that you fight."

"I knew this…" he said.

"Oh…well, when a soul is corrupted. When it has both consumed a plethora of other souls, and turned pure black…that is when I can use it for my magic. Then and only then."

"So your power feeds off of evil," he said.

"It is nourished and energized by it. Evil is its very source," she bowed her head in shame. "And now you understand why I deserve my punishment. Why I must be allowed to suffer. I am an abomination. Everything about me is," she said.

"If you are, though, then I am as well," he said to her.

"No…you aren't as low as me. No one is…" she said.

He didn't want to argue with her, so she left her at that. And he knew as he looked at her that nothing could dissuade her from her self-loathing.

Instead, he put his arms around her, and he held her. She seemed shocked at first, but then she accepted his grasp, and melted into it.

On another day, he asked her, "what do you think of the other people in the Nexus?"

She seemed surprised by the question, and it was a while before she answered, "…Stockpile Thomas is very kind." She said. "I think he may be naïve, but he's a kind man. Probably purer than anyone else here in that simplicity. I hope that, if this world is saved, people like him take control of it…rather than people like us."

"That makes a lot of sense," he said.

She nodded. "I won't even approach Saint Urbain…you do understand that he'll try to kill me, right?"

"I'm not sure about that, Urbain is a good man…"

"He's a well-intentioned man…but he knows evil when he sees it, and if your goal is to remove evil from this Earth, then here I am," she raised her arms to indicate herself.

"True enough…" and it was true. He'd felt Urbain's ire as well. The Priest was kind enough, but he disapproved of the soul arts, of magic in particular. She really did have every right to fear him.

"Sage Freke, I'm not as sure about," she said. And as she said this she looked over at the old man, who sat across the room from them. "He's never been unfriendly…he did ask to experiment on me, once, when you were away."

"Experiment on you?"

"Yes…well, you understand; Freke is trying to learn more about demonic power, and that is entirely what I possess. He claimed it wouldn't have been too invasive…but I was worried by the look in his eyes, and I turned him down."

"What look? What was it like?" he asked her.

"…I don't know. I…had an uneasy feeling. Freke is very eager. Perhaps it's my bias, I've seen that same eagerness in my fellow Witches, I've seen it in myself…it never led anywhere good."

"You're very insightful when it comes to people," he said to her.

"I've had to be. Witches need to know how likely someone is to hang them."

He nodded, "with that insight…I want to know: what do you think of the Candle Maiden?"

She frowned at the mention of the Maiden, and with his improved Perception and more 'whole' persona, he was beginning to understand why. "Alas, I'm experienced with the whims of humans…not of demons."

"But are they truly so different?"

"They differ by degrees," Yuria said. "And she…I believe that she's as alien as a Demon can be. Though you wouldn't know it by looking at her…most of the monsters that you have fought and killed are more human than she is."

He looked up, and again saw The Maiden in Black lighting the candles along the stairs.

"But I do wonder some things about her. I wonder them often, in fact," Yuria said.

"Like what?"

"…First off, I know that you can't see it. But she is immensely powerful. This may shock you…but: I believe that she could kill everyone in the Nexus in an instant. Without breaking a sweat. Furthermore, most of those Demons that you struggle with? That you almost die fighting?...she could kill them, too. Again, just as easily. Yet…"

"Yet…she's blind," he said.

"You do know that she doesn't have to be?" Yuria asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that she could remove that wax from her eyes as easily as you could unsheathe your sword. I could, if it was on me, and my powers do not even begin to match hers."

He watched the Maiden as she lit one last candle, then carefully rotated her rod upright and continued down the steps.

He turned back to Yuria. "I…have to think on that. Also, I need to go back out, I've been in the Nexus too long, I'm not doing my job."

"I understand…be careful," Yuria said.

He nodded, and turned away, but as he did she seemed to remember something.

"Wait," she called out.

He turned.

"There was one last person I wanted to talk to you about…I've seen you with that man, the one who hides behind pillars."

"Yurt," he said.

She grimaced; then nodded, "Yurt, the Silent Chief, is a murderer. Since he came to Boletaria, he's killed many people…heroes among them. I don't know what his motives are…but he's a danger; a grave one…his soul is blacker than any I've ever seen."

He felt shivers coming over him as she said it, and he remembered how easily Yurt had killed Patches, how he had justified it.

"Please watch out for him…please," she said.

He nodded, and turned away again.

"I can't bear the thought of any harm coming to you."

Beneath his armor, the red that rose to his cheeks and then throughout his body could not be seen. Every organ in his abdomen rose, and then lowered, and his fingers clenched.

He should have said something else then, anything. In the days that would come, he would curse himself for remaining silent.

But that was the choice that he made, and with a simple nod, he stepped away from her.

"Hello, Yurt," he said to the dark-armored man leaning against the pillar.

"Hello, my friend," Yurt said.

"I have a question…"

"Yes?"

"What did you do, to end up in that cage, I mean…you told me that the Demons had you there, but…were you there before the Demons came?"

"I was."

He took a sudden step back.

Yurt looked up at him, maybe he was smiling beneath his helmet, "why so startled? I have never once lied to you. I told you I am here to slay demons, and I am. It is what I have always done."

"You don't end up in a cage hanging over a bottomless pit for slaying Demons," the Knight said.

Yurt chuckled. "You can…I'm sure you've realized by now how ambiguous the difference between man and Demon is. Some people simply…place that line at a different point. There were many in Old Boletaria who were sinners, of that I'm sure you have no doubt. Consuming human souls so freely and fervently? It's disgusting."

"So," he said, drawing his blade, and observing it. "It was necessary for someone to step in."

"You killed people," the Champion said.

"I killed practicioners of the Soul Arts. If there had been more people like me in this Kingdom, the Deep Fog would not have descended."

"You don't know that."

"Oh but I do," said Yurt. "The Old One does not come for no reason…no. Did you know the truth? It must be summoned. Willingly."

"…what?" he asked, quietly. Again he felt his insides squirming.

"Yes. Someone in this kingdom chose to bring the Old One down upon us. They figured out how to do it, and they used the Soul Arts to do so."

"But the Old One came…it came because-" he stammered.

"Because it was awakened. The Old One was asleep. It had been for a thousand years, maybe longer. How it was put to sleep, I have not the faintest idea. But I do know that anyone with sufficient powers in the Soul Arts can awaken it…and you've seen the results of that. An entire kingdom, dead, and the fog spreading to the rest of the world."

There was a pause, and then the Champion nodded.

"So our plan must be twofold," Yurt said. "Surely we must slay the Demons, surely we must find some way to destroy the Old One…if that can even be done…if it can't be, put it to sleep, I suppose…but we must also eliminate the Soul Arts entirely. We must remove all mention of them from history, and we must prevent this from ever happening again."

"I understand, Yurt," the Champion said. "Believe me…I do. But…no more killing, please. We're trying to survive here. We can't afford to draw swords on each other.

There was a pause. Yurt stared him down, and he prepared to be attacked. His hand drifted slowly over to the hilt of his sword-

"Alright," Yurt said. "I will assist you…but no more killing."

"None," the Champion repeated.

"None," Yurt said.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief.

And then he heard the fight.

"You're a sinner who practices in the powers of sin!" Urbain yelled at Freke.

"And you need to think up insults that are less redundant," the Sage shot back. "Perhaps you would if you had educated yourself instead of hiding behind books filled with lies that demand faith to explain their inconsistencies."

"I need none of my own wit, for God is at my side-"

"-Oh, and here we go," Freke said. "Here comes the scripture."

"-And God, why, he is a being of infinite wisdom," Urbain was practically screaming. His voice could be heard breaking. "Praise him for he will replace my weak arms with his full ones. Praise him with a name that transcends the heavens and reaches beyond all that we know: Umbasa."

"Your god has no arms!" Freke shouted, and then moved in close to him, almost whispering. "Do you know what it really is that you worship? Do you!?"

"The Unbeliever shall speak lies into your ears. He shall whisper with the Demon's tongue. But have faith my children, and do not listen. For your God is the true God, as evidenced by the Miracles he hath granted you, and this world a mere test, to prove that you shall not falter-"

"Do you want me to show you how weak your miracles truly are?" Freke asked, and as he did his right hand began to glow blue. "Because surely, if your god did love you, he wouldn't let you be slain by a petty mage."

Urbain hesitated at that, and just as his face began to shift toward a deep rage, the kind of rage that results in violence, a voice shouted out, "enough!"

They both looked up, and saw the Champion there, standing on the stairs and looking down at them. He rushed downward as quickly as his armored legs could carry him, and then stood between the Saint and the Sage.

"You will both stand down," he said, with more confidence than he felt. "The Nexus is a place of peace, and it will remain so."

They remained still for a moment. Urbain opened his mouth again and began to recite a scripture. He didn't get the first word out before the Champion interrupted him.

"No!" He said. "No more of that!"

Urbain's face turned a red so bright that it was hard to believe he was still human, he looked away from Freke, and straight at The Champion. The pure intensity in his gaze silenced him.

"I had hope for you," Urbain said. "You understood that the powers of Demons were evil, you understood that even as you used them. Yet now you stand there and defend him." He glared at Freke and spoke of him with terrifying malevolence.

Urbain continued, "The world is coming to a crossroads. After we survive this…if we survive this, there will only be two types of human beings left: those with God, and those without God. Those with God will stand against the forces that almost led to this world's destruction, and will do everything that they can to fix it. Those without God will become part of the problem."

He turned around, his white cloak flowing around him as he began to step away.

"I will forgive you this treason," he said. "Because I still have faith that you shall make the right choice, when the time comes."

And then, Freke turned around a pillar, and went back to his makeshift shrine.

"What a pompous windbag," Freke said.

The Champion stared at him.

"What?" Freke said.

"How did that start?"

"He came over to my side of the Nexus and offered my apprentice 'forgiveness and redemption'. I insisted he leave. I managed to get him out here, but he wouldn't back down any further, and that was when the main argument started."

"I see…" the Champion murmured.

"I cannot stomach talking to him, or any of his followers…" Freke said, and looked at the Champion directly. "Have I told you about the current results of my research? Or even what I'm focusing it on?"

"What?" the Knight asked.

"I've been studying Miracles."

The Knight shot a glance at Freke to see if he was serious. He seemed to be.

"Yes, I've said I have distaste for them, but the power of Urbain's religion is undeniable…and my question was: why? He claims that the stronger his faith is, the stronger God's power is within him…which is a load of bollocks, especially given that despite his big talks, he's using Souls like the rest of us. You do know that the Miracles of God are one of the Soul Arts, right?"

"Yes," the Champion said. "And it always confused me."

"Exactly. So aside from being an immense hypocrite, he's also claiming things that make no logical sense. Since when is Faith a human strength that can be enhanced via Souls? No…no…Miracles are just like Magic, they're magic of a different kind, but they still are. The main difference is that Urbain is just slightly right…they come from an outside source."

"God."

Freke just stared. His eyes were dark.

"…Not God?"

"Son…I'm sorry, but there is no god. At least, not as we understand it."

"How can you say that, though?"

"How can you say that there is?" Freke asked. "Look around you. Demons are consuming humans left and right. Those of us left alive are doomed to suffer. If there is any sort of afterlife, we're preventing people from reaching it, because we are consuming what is left of them after they die. And furthermore, notice how those souls just sit around, waiting. We don't even stop them from going anywhere. They just sit there until we use them. There's nothing beyond this life, nothing…and I'm expected to believe that a just god, a god that loves us, created this? Feh."

"…But then where would Miracles come from?"

"Something real. Something that's just as powerful as their god…the most powerful known being in existence."

He stared at Freke.

"You mean the Old One."

"Yes," Freke said. "I mean the Old One."

"…but as hypocritical and self-contradicting as you claim faith is, Freke, this is more so. All of the Faith-Users are slayers of Demons. The Old One would not use its power to fight itself."

"You assume that the Old One is a very simple being when you make that statement. You assume that it's just as simple as us," Freke said.

I servest The Old One.

He visibly shook as the memory came back to him.

"What's wrong?" Freke asked.

"It's just…The Maiden…she told me that she serves The Old One. That my goal is to put it back to rest, so that it can be at peace."

Freke nodded, "yes…this is sounding more and more probable with every new piece of information. My working hypothesis would be that the Old One is a complex being, and that it has many facets…however, with that in mind…" He looked throughout the Nexus, to see if anyone was watching, and then he suddenly grabbed the Champion and led him in between two pillars.

"…Be careful of that Candle Maiden," Freke whispered.

"Why? She's done nothing but-"

"-Help you, yes. But let me ask you a new question: Has she gone out of her way to help you? Has she taken risks? Has she helped you to the best of her ability?"

I mean that she could remove that wax from her eyes as easily as you could unsheathe your sword.

He turned his head to the side, and looked out on the center of the Nexus, the dozens of dancing symbols still shined and glowed, and he still could not understand them.

"I'm just asking you this:" Freke said. "If there is one thing that we can learn from Urbain, it's to be careful what you trust. Surely, you've done a lot of good, following the path that she has prescribed for you. You're making progress. But you must think larger: Are you really eliminating the threat here…or are, you through her, playing into the Old One's hand?"

The symbols were beautiful, he did not know what they meant, though, and he did not know what lay beneath them. His mind kept drifting toward that. Because every time he thought of the possibility of The Maiden betraying him, of her watching and encouraging his suffering, it was too painful.

"Do you understand?" Freke asked.

"Yes," he said. "I understand."

"Good," Freke said, and tapped him on the shoulder twice, then nodded, and turned around, walking toward his area of the Nexus.

The Champion looked up from the symbols, and saw her there, still lighting the Candles. He was glad, for once, that no one could see his face. He felt the muscles within it contort as he looked at her, he felt his eyes grow sore with oncoming tears.

The Maiden's head turned toward his, and for a moment, he could swear she was looking at him. But no, she was blind, her head kept turning past him, and she walked up the rest of the stairs, stopping to light more candles on her way.

Night was more of an agreed-upon time in the Nexus. Everyone got together, and decided that the Maiden would not light the candles, and that the gigantic room would be allowed to darken. This was when the bedrolls were brought out. This was when sleep came.

And tonight, Saint Urbain slept separately from everyone else.

He had hoped that as the world grew darker, people would at least look more toward the light, but no. Frustrating as it was, that was not the case. Souls were more in demand than ever, now that their arts were needed just to survive outside of this sanctuary. Even more than before, they'd become a form of currency to be spent in the thousands. It was sickening, and more than that, it was sad.

Especially when he saw good men turning from the Path of Righteousness.

"Hello, Saint Urbain," he heard above him.

He rolled over onto his side. Standing there, cloaked in darkness, was an unfamiliar figure. He could make out the two horns that rose from the top of its head.

"…Hello," Urbain said. "You were the man that was rescued recently, am I correct?"

"Why yes, yes I am…" the figure said. And his tone left Urbain slightly uneasy.

"I'm quite sorry, but I'm trying to sleep. If you're here for a service or a confession, I shall take it in the morning. I hope that it can wait at least that long."

"Sadly, it can't," the figure said.

Urbain groaned and sat up. But it was his duty as a man of God. And he could not complain about the state of the world without doing his part to fix it. He flexed his shoulders and looked at the dark figure, then began to stand.

"Oh that won't be necessary," said the figure.

"What?"

"I won't pull you out of bed. I just have a quick confession, honestly, and then I will allow you to rest, with no further disturbances."

"Alright then," said Urbain, secretly glad for it. "What might this confession be?"

"I," said the figure, as he drew a hook-like weapon from his side. "am a liar. The worst kind, you see. For I am about to break a promise made to a friend."

-

This became the Longest Chapter because I had to spent a good amount of time on Yuria. I don't know if you like or dislike the pairing, but it is what it is and it became what it was as I was writing. Yuria's behavior toward the player always struck me as incredibly intimate. So intimate that when you play a female character I get convinced that she's a lesbian. Her ability to see into people is also from the game, actually. If you spend time talking to her, you'll realize that she DOES warn the player about Yurt, and, much later **SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED DEMON'S SOULS BUT THEN WHY WOULD YOU BE HERE** Freke.

Yuria is also the best example of how you should not give me credit for the depth that these characters actually have. We're all familiar with her timid side, but did you know that when you attack her, she is the quickest to turn hostile? It's because she's spent her entire life fighting and running from people who want to hurt her. She's used to being attacked, and she's not going to interpret it as a mistake.

Anyway, enough about that, hope you enjoyed. Rate review as always.