Ostrava sat, staring at the figure in front of him. The figure stared back, but did not move, not even to breathe. He was frozen, his broken frame nothing more than a shadow. Biorr's snoring echoed throughout the Nexus, and was the only sound between the three of them.

The Candle Maiden walked down the stairs carrying something. Ostrava moved his eyes from the man for one moment to see that it was a slab of meat. He wondered where she had gotten it, where food came from in this place, but decided not to ask questions.

The Maiden walked to the dark figure and handed him the food, but he didn't raise up his arm to take it. She gestured at him, and tapped him, and tried to get him to pay attention to her, but to no avail. Finally, she gave up, and placed the meat on his lap. He didn't touch it.

"You aren't going to win that staring contest, friend," Ostrava suddenly heard.

He almost jumped, but instead turned slowly. Sitting next to him was an old man wearing hooded robes.

"You're scared?" the old man said tentatively.

"No...not scared, just startled. I didn't think there was anyone here other than those two."

"There are other survivors, not many," said the old man.

"Survivors? Survivors from what? Was this place attacked?"

"Well-" the old man started.

"We won't discuss this," said the figure with the meat on its lap, abruptly. It was the first thing he had said in hours.

And it was followed by silence between all of them.

"I'm sorry," Ostrava said. "I didn't get your name."

"Sage Freke," said the old man, with a smile belying the awkwardness of the shadowy man's gaze.

"Wait...the Sage Freke? You can't be serious."

"Unfortunately, yes," the old man said. "I came here to learn, and because I had faith in my own abilities. Whatever was hidden in the fog couldn't be so bad that I couldn't handle it...at least I thought. But I was captured, and my own apprentice had to ask that boy to rescue me."

Freke pointed at the weary knight.

"He saved you?"

"Of course he did. He was very competent...before...well, before what happened."

"You're talking about him like he isn't even here..." Ostrava whispered.

"For the most part, he isn't," Freke said, without whispering at all.

"What do you mean?" Ostrava asked.

"He's bound to the Nexus. He cannot die. That is both his gift and his curse. When his corporeal body is too damaged, however, he loses it. His soul reforms here as a solid entity."

"So...he's a ghost."

"In a sense," Freke said. "But he's just as conscious and present as if he were a man...or, he used to be."

"Stop talking about me..." the figure murmured, very quietly. "I'm...I'm right here..."

There was another pause.

"He has his lucid moments," Freke continued, despite the figure's plea. "But they're fewer and fewer by the hour. Before this, he had been sustaining himself off of the power of demons, acquiring new bodies and slowing this process...but it's gone too far, now. It's only a matter of time."

"Until what?" Ostrava asked.

"Until he discorporates entirely, and becomes nothing more than energy, the fragment of a soul ripe for consumption."

"That's...awful," Ostrava said.

"Yes," Freke murmured, a glint in his eyes visible beneath his hood. "It is."

"I don't understand, though. He was aware when I came here. We talked to him."

Freke nodded, "Like I said: Lucid moments, but they're few and far between."

"If slaying demons restored him, why didn't he keep doing it?" Ostrava asked.

"Because he doesn't want to."

"No...never..." the figure murmured, in a tone that made it impossible to tell whether what he was saying applied to their conversation or not.

"Why on earth not?" Ostrava said.

"Ask him yourself, when he's conscious again. But to give you an idea: he had a corporeal body a few days ago. This time, a Demon didn't take it from him. He took care of that himself."

Ostrava shot a glare at Freke, and saw that he was serious, then took a look back at the tangible soul sitting on the stairs. It let out a low groan that transformed into an unearthly shout, without moving its body at all, then went silent again.

There was a long, silent pause. Ostrava looked away. He couldn't hold his focus on that being. He couldn't think about it. What was happening to him was just...horrific. Too horrific.

He needed to get back to his mission.

"Who is in charge, here?" Ostrava asked Freke.

"If I could point to anyone, it would be the monumental."

"What's the monumental?"

Freke turned his head and looked at Ostrava. "You have a lot to learn."

The stairs were hard to mount for a man in armor, but Ostrava was above such gripes and complaints. He had to speak to this monumental. He had to discover what it knew and how it could help him save his kingdom.

As he turned through an arch, he saw her, lighting the candles as always, the Maiden in Black.

"Milady," he said in greeting.

She turned and looked at him, silently.

"The monumental is above, correct?"

"Yes," she said, in a quiet voice that seemed to echo against the walls.

He nodded, "I want to ask you something, as long as I'm here."

"...No," she said, and turned away.

"You haven't heard my question," he said.

"I am not here for thee. Speakest to the Monumental to answer thy concerns."

"But my questions are regarding you, I-"

"-I am not here for thee," she repeated.

"Milady, why do you treat me so coldly?"

Silence.

Ostrava growled and gave up. He kept going up the stairs, past her. She didn't turn to look at him as he went.

He met the monumental surrounded by the remains of its dead brothers.

It alone had two lit candles on either side of its head, though around it there were endless rows of children that looked exactly like it. He couldn't tell, even as he watched it, whether it was a statue or still the body of a human. The candle-light made it no more obvious.

"Prince Ariana Allant," The Monumental said, as soon as it spotted him.

He stepped backward and almost fell over the railing. "How do you know my real name?"

"Trying to hide things from me is rather purposeless," said the Monumental. "It is my duty to know everything, and I have the magic required to do that. Even if you could, I'm on your side."

Ostrava thought for a moment, then spoke carefully, "I didn't want to risk that."

"It's not a risk," said the Monumental. "You have more important questions, though."

"Yes, I do," said Ostrava. "Tell me what this place is.

And in the faint light of the candles, the Monumental explained the Nexus to him, its mouth unmoving as a disembodied voice emanated from it. The Monumental explained the Old One, explained how it had come in his time, and how he and his brothers had sacrificed themselves knowing that, in the end, they may not live to see the day when it rose again.

Ostrava sat, and listened. It was the same story that seemed to fill this world. A story fighting within the aura of hopelessness.

"Can I ask you about some of the people who inhabit this place?" he said, next.

"Certainly," said the Monumental.

"On the way up here, I spoke to the Candle Maiden...where did she come from? Why are her eyes covered with wax...and why does she speak that way?"

"Ah, yes, her...She was once one of the most powerful Demons. I believe she still is," said the Monumental, as if it were something flippantly casual. "If I remember correctly she rivals the Old One."

Ostrava opened his mouth to respond, but there were no words. For almost a full minute, he could not speak.

Then he heard a great laughter emanating from the statue. It was a relief. Everything made sense again.

"You're joking," Ostrava said, as he came to the conclusion himself.

"No, no I'm not," said the Monumental. "But I said it that way in order to see your reaction. It gets quite boring up here."

"You are actually telling me," said Ostrava. "That that girl is on the same level of power as the King of all Demons?"

"More or less. Possibly more. She seems to have faith in her abilities," said the Monumental.

"H-how? Where is she from? When? How does a young girl-"

"I'm sorry, I can't answer those questions," the Monumental interrupted.

"You said you'd answer everything!"

"I can answer everything...except for questions about the Maiden in Black. She is the one thing in this realm I hold no authority over, you understand. I have no right to speak of her any more than I have. If you want to know of her past, ask her yourself."

"She won't talk to me."

"Then that's the end of that line of inquiry."

Ostrava stammered, "I thought you were the leader here, I was told you hold authority over all the Nexus."

"That I do," he said. "But not her. I pity any man who tries to hold authority over her. She's surprisingly stubborn, and it's not like it's possible to force her to do anything."

"I'm beginning to understand that," Ostrava said, remembering their earlier conversation.

"Regardless, we shan't speak of her further, any other questions?"

"I want to ask about that man that she seems so empathetic toward. Who is he, really? Freke didn't seem to know anything about him before he rescued him."

The Monumental was silent.

"...Hello?" Ostrava said.

"Yes...there's almost nothing left of who he was, before."

"But do you remember? Can you tell me?"

"All that you need to know," said the Monumental. "Is that he was our last hope."

Sage Freke sat down next to the man who had once been called Her Champion, Her Knight, the Demonslayer, and many other names in lieu of the one he had lost.

It struck him, as he pondered over it, that those were now gone, too. There was nothing left of this being resembling an identity...but that could not be allowed. This was the man who had saved Freke, who had rescued him from the clutches of Mind Flayers. He must be repaid.

"Are you alright, son?" he started out, though he knew the answer.

"I...I can think right now," said the figure. "I'm here...I don't know how long..."

Freke nodded, "then we should talk quickly."

"What can you possibly have to talk about..." the figure said, his voice did not conclude, but faded out, even when he was lucid. This was a new development, and it worried Freke further.

"I need to help you."

The figure looked down to the ground, "I don't want help..."

"I don't care," Freke said.

He shook his head, "If it's happening; if I'm fading, just let it happen...don't fight it...it's the closest thing to death I'll have..."

"No," said Freke. "That's the last thing I'll do."

"But-..."

"Listen," Freke said, glaring at him. "I've been researching the Demonic Arts, the power that Yuria used, along with miracles. If you are willing to let me use you for some experiments, maybe I can figure out a way to-"

"-Accomplish absolutely nothing..." he interrupted.

Freke stood up, angrily, "do you not understand what's happening here!?" he yelled.

"You won't accept that I've given up...?"

"No!" Freke said. "This giving up in the first place is a result of her! It's because of what she's done to you! The Maiden in Black, sent you on a Fool's Errand to fight every Archdemon, and you did well for it, I must say. But that isn't humanly possible, and you know it! She, and the Monumental, and everyone else here put that pressure on you. They inflated you out to be a hero...and then told you that they needed you to engage in ridiculous pursuits you'd never succeed at. They made you place every bit of yourself on that, and now that you are no longer doing it, those shreds of self are leaving you! Do you not understand what is happening, here? They planned this!"

"That's an elaborate plan, Freke..."

"Is it?" Freke said. "Really, think about it. The Monumental has no physical power, and the Maiden doesn't want to use hers. Did you ever clear an area of demons? Did you ever lead it to being cleared...? No, you just grew stronger, you became a Demon. That is what I am telling you, that they are trying to turn you into the next Archdemon, or kill you in the process!"

There was a pause.

"You've spent too much time on your own, Freke..."

"No, listen!" said Freke. "As I run my experiments I'm beginning to detect soul auras with more accuracy. Do you have any idea how powerful your Maiden is? If she wanted to take on the Old One, she'd do it! How hard could it be for her? You said it yourself: she admitted to serving it. Regarding the Monumental, what do you know other than his self-proclaimed story? Nothing! In fact, there are no historical records of the Old One visiting Boletaria before. His time could have been lost to antiquity, but it's just as likely that he's lying!"

"How is this even supposed to comfort me...?"

"It's supposed to remind you that you have a purpose outside of the one that they have designed for you," Freke said. "You are a human being, god damn it. Your entire life is not a question of whether or not you can serve them. Don't even try to. No man could. I can help you recover your old self, and escape this place. Just let me use you for my research. Please."

He just shook his head, "No..."

"Are you deaf? I have given valid arguments. I have given you reason upon reason why the Maiden is betraying you, why she is manipulating you in order to-"

Suddenly, the figure turned his head, and Freke followed his gaze. The Maiden in Black was right there, her head bowed.

There was a moment of fear before Freke remembered that she would never do anything.

He heard sounds emanating from her. Soft ones. They took form and became more solid, and finally he realized that she was trying to cry, but whatever tears she had would never make it past the wax. If he felt any sympathy for her, it would have been sad, but knowing what he knew, it was just pathetic and disgusting.

"Consider my offer," Freke said, to the figure sitting on the stairs. Then turned around and walked away.

After Freke left, the man who had once had a name looked up, and saw the Maiden in Black grabbing at her waxed over eyes. He saw her turn, and face the wall, and put her entire body against it. The stone silenced her as she slumped to her knees, and the only expression of her grief became her fist, hitting the wall over and over.

Her rod fell from her grasp, and clattered down the stairs. It landed next to him. He looked at it, and watched as the candle within it extinguished, then looked straight ahead again. He did not look back up at her.

A minute later, maybe two, he heard her voice, "...Doth thou heed him? Doth thou believest him?"

Silence.

"Speakest thy thoughts. I plead thee."

But he didn't even look at her.

"Ist thou truly that lost? I...I apologize."

He felt her arms against his back. He felt them run partially through him.

"Forsooth, it ist my doing. I have broken thee, mine words shalt never convey my sorrow. Come back...I beg thee, Return. It no longer matterst, even, if thee slay the Demons...just...come back."

But he did not hear her. His lucid moment faded away, and his mind once again became a series of fragments, battling each other for supremacy.

Biorr was woken from his sleep by a powerful kick, and even in his half-awake stupor he knew who it was at once.

"Ack...damn it, lad," he said, as he looked up. Ostrava stood there, clearly impatient.

"We don't have time to rest anymore, Biorr. I know what to do to save my Kingdom, now. I need you to help me."

"Fine, but isn't it better to save a Kingdom on a full night's rest?" Biorr griped.

"I'll estimate I got about six hours. Enough," Ostrava said. "Besides, more or less sleep won't make where we're about to go any better."

"Alright, lad, what did ye learn and how did ye learn it?"

"I'll answer the second question first: The Monumental. As for the first, good news. There are five archdemons...one for each of those stones. Before..." he looked over at the figure on the stairs. "...Before he became...unfortunate, he killed three: The Dragon God, the Old Monk, and the Storm King."

"Bloody hell, that boy got things done," Biorr said, looking at the young man in a new way.

"Yes, well...there are still two left. One is past the archstone we came from, and is ruling over the castle proper, but that one is apparently the most dangerous. The Monumental told me that isn't worth attempting until we know what we're doing...in the mean time, however. There is an Archdemon in the Valley of Defilement."

Biorr blinked. "The Valley of—no, lad, no."

"I understand, Biorr, but we don't have a choice."

"Ahh..." Biorr groaned, cupping his head in his hands. "That place was hell before the demons. God only knows what it's like, now."

"Have you been there?"

"Course I have, ye?"

"...Of course not. I'm nobility, remember?"

Biorr sighed. "Explains how ye can possibly be nonchalant about this."

"I didn't consider the place as bad news as the story I was given."

"Story?" Biorr asked, looking up again.

Ostrava nodded. "The Archdemon...it's Saint Astraea."

The head of the figure across the room perked up, and watched them.

Biorr burst out laughing, as if it was a joke, but when Ostrava went silent, he cut short.

"No...that's not right. A saint would never-especially not ol' Astra...she..."

"The Monumental knew things it shouldn't have known, Biorr, it knew them about me. So I must assume that what it told me here was true, as well."

"But...why in the bloody hell would she ever...?"

"I don't know, and the Monumental either didn't know, or wouldn't tell me. The point is: we have to go there, and we have to kill her, or on the off-chance that the monumental is wrong, find and kill the real archdemon. The point is, we're going there, and we have to be prepared to confront her, and the Holy Knight serving her: Garl Vinland."

The figure across the room slowly got to his feet. He stared at them both, and then began to walk.

"Garl?" Biorr stammered. "Lad, understand...I know these people, Vallarfax and I fought alongside em. Ye can't just ask me to go killin' im without even talkin to im."

"If that's necessary, you'll have to do it," Ostrava said, coldly. "I'm sorry."

"Ah, hell."

"Any other questions? Because we're wasting time," said Ostrava.

"Yes..." a voice said. "Can I come...?"

They both turned to see the weary knight standing before them. His disheveled armor hanging off of his body.

"What...the..." Ostrava said almost silently.

The figure just looked at them both, as if there were nothing wrong with him.

"Uh...ye'll need better armor, lad. At least."

"I can get it repaired..." he said. "Just give me some time..."

"Time we don't have..." Ostrava grumbled.

"Additional men are always welcome, lad," said Biorr. "We should bring 'im."

"But..." Ostrava said.

"But what?" said Biorr.

Ostrava looked at the figure, who stood there just as if he were a normal soldier.

"...Fine. Get your armor repaired, I guess. We'll wait."

The figure nodded, and turned.

"Well...I wasn't expecting that," Said Biorr.

And The Maiden in Black, who had been sitting on the edge of the stairs above, heard all of this.

The three of them stood in front of the stone.

"Are you ready, Biorr?" Ostrava asked.

"No...but I don't think I will be, so let's just go."

"Good enough...are you ready...uh...?"

The figure looked at him, and nodded.

"Alright then...we just put our hands up to the statue and...?"

Without saying anything, the figure touched the stone face, and was gone.

"Well, that's yer answer, lad," said Biorr, and did the same.

Ostrava looked back, and saw the Candle Maiden blindly staring in his direction. He knew for certain, however, that her attention was not on him.

He put his hand to the face as well, and was no longer in the Nexus.

In the darkness above, the Monumental tried to predict the future.

But the Deep Fog blocked his sight of time, as well as space.

He'd simply have to be grateful that The Champion was active again, though he did not know, or understand why. He'd have to hope for the best.

And in the darkness below, Freke's experiments continued. Slowly, very slowly, he began to realize that he was learning things no man ever had. Power greeted him. Power and knowledge interwoven into something unmistakably beautiful, something that would improve all of humanity.

He knew then, for the first time, that he could not give this up.

I don't know if the next chapters will be as long as this one, so don't get your hopes up.

Also, if you like my writing, regardless of if it's about your favorite fandom, follow me on tumblr. (The Link is on my profile) I'm trying to build up a fanbase, or at least a group of people who like to read my stuff a lot.

Regardless of whether you like my writing or just Demon's Souls, thanks for sticking with me even after the two and a half month break. I fully intend to finish this.

P.S: Fun fact. My last name is rooted in the Germanic word Madchen, used to refer to a young girl or (surprise surprise) a Maiden. Thought I'd just share that.