Sing, Muse, of the machinations of Kaathe, the serpent of primordial wisdom, and his ilk, whose subtle hands guided the fate of Man towards the swift ascent of Dark. In the land of Oolacile, where sorcerers wielded magic bathed in pure light, a sinister plot unfolded. Kaathe, the serpent of cunning, deceived the enchanters of Oolacile, leading them to disturb the slumbering Primeval Human Manus.
Awoken from his dormant state, Manus' humanity surged forth, an unbridled force that devoured Oolacile in its voracious darkness. The once-gleaming city was twisted into the Abyss, a realm of unfathomable darkness, where the denizens of Oolacile transformed into grotesque monsters. Dusk, the princess of the realm, was ensnared by Manus, captive to the Abyss's sinister grasp. Gwyn's Four Knights, dispatched to quell the looming darkness, found themselves impotent in the face of the Abyss's terrors.
Artorias, the valiant Knight of Gwyn, forged a pact with the very creatures that dwelled within the Abyss, arming himself with magical implements to confront the burgeoning threat. Contrary to the annals of history, Artorias, in his valiant pursuit, was overwhelmed and corrupted by the insidious power of the Abyss. Manus, the primeval force, would not be quelled until an unknown figure, shrouded in the mists of time, emerged victorious, shattering the very essence of Manus' soul. The Abyss fragmented, birthing the Daughters of The Abyss.
In the realm of speculation, the Abyss was not a birthright but a consequence, emerging from the tumultuous events that unfolded in Oolacile. Manus, in his wild humanity, birthed the Abyss, a manifestation of darkness run amok. Humanity, described as both warm and perilous, took on a malevolent form when disrupted, forming the Abyss that consumed all in its path. Artorias, guided by noble intent, journeyed to Oolacile to stem the spread of this ominous void. His pact with the Abyss's creatures was a desperate plea to resist corruption and death, a testament to the fine line he tread between salvation and ruin.
The Abyss, an offspring of the disruption of Lord Souls or fragments thereof, proved a malevolent force, akin to the Chaos spawned by the Witch of Izalith's ill-fated attempt to kindle a new First Flame. In the delicate dance of creation and destruction, the Abyss emerged as a testament to the consequences of tampering with the fundamental forces that shape existence.
With the advent of the Abyss, Kaathe, the serpent of guile, extended his influence to the Kings of New Londo, a city submerged in the clutches of the Undead curse. Seduced by promises of power, they became Dark Wraiths, practitioners of the Art of Lifedrain. This forbidden art allowed them to stave off the hollowing that plagued their kind and amass humanities to fortify the Dark Soul.
Kaathe, in his sly discourse, offered the tantalizing prospect: "Ahh… If you wish, I shall grant the art of Lifedrain, the legendary power of the Dark Lord. It can preserve your humanity while Undead, and cast off the shackles placed upon your brethren." Thus, the Undead Kings, enticed by the allure of dark power, succumbed to the wiles of Kaathe, setting in motion a path fraught with shadows and secrets.
Sing, Muse, of the dimming flames that heralded a shadowy epoch, where the radiant sun faltered, plunging the realm into a stygian gloom. With the gods departed from Anor Londo, the once-majestic city now stood bereft of divine presence. Among the remnants lingered Gwyndolin, the Dark Sun, bearing the lunar might bestowed upon him. Beside him stood Seath, a once-wise dragon now ensnared in the snares of madness.
In the vacuum left by the divine exodus, Gwyndolin, ever resourceful, conjured illusions to veil the waning power of the gods. Illusory Gwynevere graced the halls, her radiance a deceptive mirage to cloak the dimming light. A semblance of divine strength was maintained through these enchantments, deceiving any who beheld Anor Londo into believing that the gods' glory still burned bright.