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afropendragon · 6 years ago

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Chapter 3: A Bonfire to Call Home

(Touch the darkness within, has actual touch. WAIFU alert.)

“So I put the sword I found into the mound of ash at the room’s center?” The firekeeper nods at you.

“Yes, this will alight a flame for you to go and return.” With that, you step toward what is truly the center of the shrine. You hold the strange coiled blade aloft and slowly stick it through the mound of ash. At a an unprompted depth, the flame alights with an overwhelming density. The feeling from before washes over you like a crashing wave. Before you feel overcome by the power, it turns to a soft foaming ebb upon a shore. It is warm, tinging the hairs on your neck and arms. The flame is as welcoming as ever and yet different somehow. Like an incense not just of smell but touch was burning within. Something besides the sword kindled the bonfire, familiar but foreign.

“When you are ready, use its flame to take you to where you must venture. And when you are weary, or you seek power from souls, return to me.”

“The souls?”

“Yes, souls without a vessel any longer grant the ethereal presence of another. Either granted or taken, they become one with the recipient. They are without purpose, but if you ask I will grant them your purpose. And they will make you stronger. This is the power I serve you for.” You realize that the wisps you feel within you, are the souls of those you defeated.

“Can I utilize this power now?” You ask. She nods in response. With gentle steps, she approaches you.

“Touch the darkness within me.”

“Pardon?”

“Kneel down, my lord.” You do as she says, kneeling on one leg before her. She offers her hands to you. You respond by giving her one of yours. Curiously, she caresses your hand within her own and slowly places it upon her stomach. The blood and heat in your body rushes and blazes. Underneath the cold grey helmet, your cheeks are so red and warm. The soft feeling of her through the light thin dress gives you an ember that no bonfire was responsible for.

“Take nourishment from these sovereignless souls.” A light from your hand flows over its touch upon the Fire Keeper. A few moments later, something rushes back inside you and shrouds around you. The light from your hand ceases. You look up at the Fire Keeper’s face, she smiles and nods.

“It is done my lord, you may now rise.” Reluctantly leaving the softness of the Fire Keeper’s symmetry, you draw back your hand and lift yourself to your feet. You roll your shoulders, clasp and release your hands to determine the difference in yourself. Something about you felt sturdier, your armor’s weight had less burden, and your arms seemed to give more than ever. You also had felt more focus then before, your mind was sharper. The differences didn’t make you overall vast in power, but the changes were not too subtle.

“Whenever you have gathered enough, return and I will strengthen your body and mind. Should you wish, there are others here that may help as well. The handmaiden and the blacksmith will give you more material help that I cannot provide.”

“Thank you Lady Fire Keeper.” You bow.

“Return when you are ready, Ashen One.” She bows back.

“You know you may call me (Y/N). m’lady” You respond.

“I apologize, it is difficult to be casual with others.”

“I understand, if it makes you comfortable you may call me what you wish.”

“Thank you, m’lord.” You nod and turn to explore the rest of the shrine. Two steps out, you stop your next. You turn back toward the Fire Keeper.

“May I have the privilege of your name, Lady Fire Keeper?” For the first time since interaction with her, the Fire Keeper had no warm smile to greet your words. She opened her lips to speak, up hesitated, finally giving up altogether.

“I apologize. I am only your Fire Keeper.” A feeling of confusion swept over you. Did you injure or attack her in that question? Or was it something simply not privy to you? Or maybe, she felt her name wasn’t necessary? Or perhaps…worthy of knowing.

“It’s quite alright. I’ll take my leave.”

“So wait, you can temper this steel but you require souls and titanite? Where do I find titanite?” You were talking to the blacksmith known as Andre. His age produced long white hair and beard, but his occupation produced the tempered muscle of his arms and chest.

“It can be found out in the world. In treasures, even dropped by the foul enemies you face. Keep an eye out for them. There is a creature back where you came. It drops a very rare form of titanite, being that it is its very scales.”

“Oh, I suppose I’ll invest time into finding it.”

ONE HOUR LATER….

“Heh, back already?” The smith chuckled as he looked at the very veins of your forehead about to burst. Your grim frown was only pale of anger as your defeated trophies of dirt, mud, bruises, and a broken sword. The beast that held the titanite shards had crushed and impaled you to death many times.

“I need a new sword. Now.”

“HAHAHAHA! Alright lad, alright. Here’s one on me.” Andre turned around and took a blade from a pile. It was identical to your old broadsword but did not have ruin or age burden it as yours did. The weight balance was superior, and it’s edge honed to its peak effectiveness.

“Remember, your Estus Flask is just as important as your weapon.”

“Estus Flask?” As you echo his words, you realize your glass of golden liquid must have been what he spoke of?

“Yes, that flask you carry is precious to Unkindled. It can heal your wounds, as you already know. The blue one is meant to restore a power that allows you do accomplish certain feats that would otherwise be difficult. Magic and the use of masterful techniques require that power.”

“That’s difficult to grasp.”

“Ok, how ‘bout this: You can use certain amount of things with some kind of “magic points” you have. You use those to do stuff. You run low, drink that or go to a bonfire. That better?”

“Well enough, yes.”

“Then keep a close eye out for shards for them. I can use them to make the flask hold more. There are also special ashes that can kindle the potency of their power if burned here.”

“Special Ashes?”

“Yes. Ashes of great value contain power all their own. Many are meant for other purposes. Speak to the Hand Maid behind you about such things.”

“Thank you, Sir Andre.” You place your right hand over your heart and bow your head slightly.

“Brithee be careful. I wouldn’t want to see ma work squandered. Hahaha.” His words struck a nerve about earlier, but you nod and move on. You walk back to the wide short tunnel arch leading to the shrine center. On the left side was an old woman covered in tattered rags, sitting in an old wooden chair. You had passed her to not bother, thinking she was perhaps asleep. As you approached her she raised her head. She was awake this whole time.

“Ahhh, Ashen One.” She spoke.

“My name is (Y/n), honored elder.” She chuckled at your statement. Perhaps, you thought, people simply don’t like to use names.

“Oh yes, I heard you tell the dear Fire keeper. However the name doesn’t sit with me. So in return just refer to me as the Old Hand Maid.” Annoyed, this seemed to confirm your previous thought.

“Very well, I wish to speak to you of ‘ashes.’ Andre told me you had knowledge of these curiosities.”

“Bring me ashes you find. And I will be able to bestow their belongings to you. I have many baubles and curiosities myself. Hmhmhm.” You wondered why this woman seemed to chuckle to herself all the time. However she seemed to be able to help you.

“Are you aware of your task, Ashen One? The Fire Keeper may haps forgot to inform of the nature of the journey you take.”

“I’m…going somewhere?” The Hand Maid chuckled at your answer. In all honesty, you weren’t sure what you were doing either.

“Yes, Indeed. It is called Lothric, where the transitory lands of the Lords of Cinder, converge.” As soon as she said ‘Lothric,’ a feeling of despair washed over you that you couldn’t identify. But the Hand Maid had a story to tell, and you needed to hear it all.

“In venturing north, the pilgrims discovered the truth of the old words.” You pondered what she meant by ‘pilgrims.’ Did she refer to you? Most likely not, another second party was implied. And the old words were?

“’The Fire Fades. And the Lords go without thrones’” She gestured her hand to the center of the shrine where the large seats were placed. The thrones of the Lords, were in this shrine.

“When the Link of Fire is threatened, the bell tolls. Unearthing the Old Lords of Cinder from their graves.” She points to one of the thrones on the left side.

“Aldrich, Saint of the Deep.” She moves her finger to the lower right chair.

“Farron’s Undead Legion, The Abyss Watchers. Moving her finger again, up one from the previous throne.

“And the reclusive Lord of the Profaned Capital, Yhorm the Giant.” All these names sent a chill down your spine. And you felt you already knew why you are here now.

“Only in truth, the Lords will abandon their thrones.” She moves her hand to point at you.

“And, the Unkinlded will rise. Nameless accursed undead, unfit even to be cinder. And so it is, that ash seeketh embers.” This confirmed it, you would need to confront these frightening names. You couldn’t even imagine accomplishing this quest. You tried to picture visions of a victory, yet your wildest dreams couldn’t conjure a world where you succeed. You were going to die. You would die many, many times.

“I’m going to need a bigger sword.” Your words make the Handmaid cackle, more appropriate for an old creepy woman like her.

“Remember to hold onto your souls, they are a precious commodity. And perhaps you can succeed, Ashen One.” The words weren’t encouraging, in fact it gave you more to worry about.

“Oh gracious,” She stated. “You possess a ring that I have as well.” You look to your finger, to see the red jeweled ring that was with you in your burial.

“This was with me when I awoke. A gift or lost item I suppose. It’s helpful.”

“I would say it is, Ashen One. It is also strange you found it. Curious indeed…” She trailed off for a moment. The silence extended, and she seemed to not even be back in your conversation.

“Well, does it belong to someone you know?”

“Someone I know, you ask? Perhaps, although if it does they would not know me. Or perhaps they do.” She chuckled again. That was it, you thought, she’s insane.

“Well thank you for the story, but I have to go now.”

“Come back anytime.” And with a final cackle from her, you leave her presence for the sake of your sanity. Your determination unsure and shaken, you reluctantly approach the shrine’s center once more. You look to the right, and you notice a man sitting with head hung. He was in tattered clothes and armor, a wooden shield on his back. He was an adventure, although the vibes from him said otherwise. You decided it would be best not to approach him. Your willingness to go on this quest was already wavering. And the man seemed so crestfallen, you thought you wouldn’t want to leave hearing his story.

“Ashen One.” In surprise, you turned quickly to the left to be face to face with the Fire Keeper. Close enough to feel the warmth of her smile, the warmth of your cheeks was rising.

“Ah, Lady Fire Keeper, my apologies! I didn’t see you there my lady.”

“Are you prepared, Ashen One? You must go and return the Lords to their thrones.”

“More or less. Probably the latter, to be honest.”

“Whenever you have need of rest, return here. It will be a harrowing task, please come back to me so that I may assist you in gaining strength.”

“Thank you, Lady Fire Keeper.” You bow to her.

“Farewell, Ashen One. May the flames guide thee.” She returns your bow with her own. With renewed vigor in the Fire Keeper’s words, you push yourself toward the shrine’s bonfire. One last breath in, and a strong one out. You reach out your hands, and see a vision of a place within the fumes of the flame. You push your hand further, and soon you are wrapped in a warm fog. And then, nothing.

Slowly your body feels, your muscles become yours to move, and you open your eyes. The air where you are is colder, finding yourself in a small cinder stone room. Behind you is a broken sword from the bonfires, and in front of you a door. You push yourself forward, opening the door. Outside, your surroundings have indeed changed. You stand upon an open area of a small stone tower that is part of a wall of many more. There’s a set of spiraling stairs to both sides. And to your surprise, another bonfire rest in the center.

You reach your hand to the blade of the bonfire and light it’s welcoming flame. A small smirk stretches your face. As you descend the short spiraled stairs, an optimistic feeling clouds you. As long as you have the bonfires, you thought, I can deal with small husks. On que, reality rears its dark unforgiving head in the form of armored undead. Two of them attack you with ferocious flurry of swings. You manage to dodge and block them, slicing one down from the shoulder. The other undead you sweep with your blade, finishing it with a downward stab.

You don’t have time to recover, because a new problem was rushing toward you. Closing in fast, were feral pale creatures resembling dogs. Behind him, was another armored undead, but twice as big carrying an axe about the size of your torso. The dogs are curving around to your left, you had to focus them and dispatch them quicker than the other enemies. You raise your sword to swipe, but a sharp pain sears through your shoulder. Gritting your teeth, you hold your pained shoulder and see an arrow stick in between the armor plates of shoulder and arm.

You turn back, on a platform you passed over, was another undead carrying a bow and arrow. You turn forward, and you are too weak to stop the next assault. The dogs jump you, one gnaws your leg, causing you to fall over. The other one digs into the exposed joint of your wounded shoulder. The pain is too much, as you shout while struggling. You didn’t know what to do other than to try and pull each dog off one by one with jarring force. It didn’t matter though, because exposed and laid out on the ground as you were, you couldn’t do a thing about the axe wielding undead. Charging in, the undead jumped up and brought the axe down upon you. You close your eyes, and the last thing you feel is iron digging through the armor and into your organs. It crushed your heart almost instantly.

You Died.

You awaken at the bonfire not too far from your previous death. You can still feel the pain, the sharp stabs, the biting. Even the crushed heart remembers, and you grab your chest to stop the traumatic pain in vain. A few minutes later, and the phantom pain subsides. You’re breathing so heavily from the struggle of just waking, you were almost exhausted again. Sitting up from the bonfire, you regain your vigor. However something feels lost, a warmth of life that is snuffed out. You didn’t lose the souls, you had used them all with the Fire Keeper. Then it hits you: The ember. You lost your ember from defeating the Statue back near your burial. Now you were truly just Ash.

This is how your adventure begins, by losing something already. Abandon all hope, you’re going to die.

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afropendragon · 6 years ago

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Chapter 2: An Ember to Call My Own

As you take your first step, a faint glint catches the corner of your eye. You turn back to your grave. Just above the nameless tombstone, you dig and find something. It;s a glossy green flask, with a bright and gold liquid inside. There’s also a small silver ring with a red half sphere jewel. Upon your (D/h) ring finger you place this bauble, it couldn’t fit your hand better. Many feelings are spurred by this ring, but one is truly concrete: your body’s vigor seems to stimulate. It’s not by much, but you are more stout and durable than before.

You ponder the effects only a moment, as you are interrupted by a groaning noise. You turn your head swiftly, your armor rattles with your tensing muscles. Dragging itself to you is no more than a long cloak and a pale husk. However, the husk is humanoid, and it carries a curved knife. And now, its empty eyes were upon you. Within its range, you are charged by the ferocity of hungry animal. A fast vertical slash from its blade falls on you. Caught flat-footed, you side step clumsily and avoid a fatal strike to the head, but your worn left shoulder plate is pierced, and your shoulder gashed through. The pain causes you to grit and hold your shoulder’s wounds with the opposite hand. You take a scan of your surroundings to find a way out of your situation, but more problems arise as more of the husk creatures appear. You look down, and just now realizing upon your (Opposite your D/h) hip is a broadsword in its sheathe. You take your arm off your wounds, and quickly draw the blade with you (D/h) hand. The blade, while not rusted, is also worn but its presence is enough for your desperate mind to feel at ease. As the Husk continues its attack, you plunge your blade into its chest using the creatures own momentum to impale it. The husk groans its last as it slides off your blade onto the floor. With no time to waste, you turn toward the other husks. The closest raises its knife, but you took the initiative and rushed it with a double handed slash from top to bottom. Without a hitch, you pivot and spin your blade into the next creature. The force cut it in half as you followed through hitting the ground.

No more enemies left, the adrenaline wears off, and your breaths turn heavy. The pain from your shoulder returns, you grip it tightly but blood continues down. Your already dry mouth felt crackly and wheezy. Without even thinking you took the flask you carried and gave it a gulp. You thought perhaps it was a mistake, but almost immediately your throat and thirst was refreshed and your wounds stitched by a faint golden ether surrounding you. As the light faded, you stood back up feeling truly like you were renewed once more. All that was left was the pain of living that all must suffer. But even in this desolate land, you were at least still standing. Now you had no reason to not continue on. With this realization, you took the first steps into the gray land.

Only a few yards from your grave was a dry archaic basin, but something glowed within. You bent down and shifted through the dirt to find a flask similar to the one you already carried. This particular one however was covered in flakes of gray and filled with a glimmering blue liquid. With each new discovery were answers blackened by the flames of time, but a phantom sting of familiarity pricks at your mind. And yet you don’t even know the questions to ask, let alone the answers to them. You only hope that what lies ahead, will have what you seek.

Over a mound next to a canyon’s edge you reach. The ascent has led you to a peculiarity: An amalgam of an iron fire poker and a sword. It sticks in the ground, a dim orange light lights within an ash mound, it was some strange bonfire. Something draws you to it, your hand slowly hovers upon the hilt. Before fully reaching, the bonfire burst into life. The flames engulfed you, it wasn’t hot, simply warm and soothing. Its flame danced across every sinew in your body, a spring of warm liquid fire bathes you in its serenity. Before you know it, you are sitting next to it and the cold biter world fades away in the sanctuary of the fire. You remember this sensation. It was like being wrapped in sheets of a bed, lying in soft bliss. This was “Rest.” You stretch your arms, roll your shoulders backwards then forwards. You take to your feet and leave the fire’s kiss. The weight of the world leans upon you once more, but your will to carry on drags your feet further.

You pull your sword from the remains of a husk with a crossbow. Your injuries are not burdening but you decide you need a sip of the orange flask. Thankfully the bonfire refiled it. Now you need to enter through the large archway, and towards an ominous sight. It was a large open ground. One side of the area was walled off by stone and large stone coffins. The other side was a fall into the gray open canyon. The other side was a large stone wall with a large wooden door to match its size. In the very center of this area appeared to be a large statue of a man kneeling down with a glaive to fit its size. Approaching, you notice something plunged into the stone Monument’s stone chest. Surprised, it was the same kind of blade of the bonfire you had just rested at not but five minutes ago. From this ‘wound’ there was also a shadowy mucus stemming off its back, an unnatural infection without reason you could comprehend. Although against your common sense and an immense feeling of trepidation, you feel a stronger urge to pull the blade out. Planting your foot up on the stone chest for leverage, you grip the hilt of the strange sword with both hands and pull. At first it barely budged, but soon it seemed to slip out of the statue as if through oil. The sudden shift in ease made you stumble back when the blade was released. You caught yourself and maintained footing, you felt a strange satisfaction of the act. A small smile across your face as you gazed at the sword, was instantly wiped away as you heard stone moving. You slowly move your head to face the frightening truth of the noise, and regret followed behind. The statue that knelt down you had just taken the blade from, was lifting itself off its kneeling pose. Towering above you, the statue’s gaze was now locked upon you. Your legs may have well been stone too, because they froze against your desire to escape. But it didn’t hulk toward you. With speed seemingly impossible for its mass, the statue pulled its massive glaive back and thrust it toward you. The sudden movement left you no time to react. Only the words you were starting to say as you realized your mistake were allowed. The very first words you spoke said since waking, and your last:

“Oh shit.”

A gasp in the darkness escaped you, then followed by your wide eyes opening. You look around, you are sitting down once more at the bonfire upon the small mound near your waking place. Which was odd, because you could’ve sworn you felt a great stone blade being plunged into your body. The pain from before seemed to attest it happened. Not only that, you felt something missing. As if an imaginary pouch in your belongings was plundered. Despite that strange feeling, something new was present with you. In your hand was indeed the blade that was plunged into the giant. If it was a dream, it was as real as ground you lay upon. You took to your feet, and looked toward the distant area you swear you had died. You had tired reach a conclusion to what was going, but no luxury of time was given to you. A groaning noise from behind you and in your path could be heard. You look behind and onward, the husks you had killed were ‘alive’ once more.

“Dammit!”

To your relief, your journey back proved more fruitful. You had picked up small round pellets, it wasn’t until you dropped one on accident that you realized they were firebombs. It was also lucky that you dropped it on the foot of one of the husks. Its screams of burning pain were cathartic to say the least. Along the way you had identified the empty feeling you had upon reawakening, whenever you slew one of the husks, a small near invisible wisp left them and seemingly went into you and it filled you with something. It didn’t have physical weight or baggage upon your mind, but you could sense how much you gathered instinctively.

When you slayed the final crossbow wielding husk, you stood back to the arch leading to the statue. This time however, the archway was blanketed in a grey, thick, obscuring mist. You reach your hand and then pull it back. Reaffirming your need to push forward, you reach out again and enter the mist. The other side was much the same as before. But to your despair, the statue was alive and moving. While your nerves were still at their limit, you were much more prepared then last time. You still had some distance between the statue, so you waited for an opening until you close the gap. Or at least that’s what you would’ve done, if the statue didn’t do the last thing you expected. It jumped high into the air, aiming to bring its glaive down on you when it landed. Despite your utter surprise, your legs were swifter to aid this time. You tumbled forward and to the side, barely avoiding the overwhelming strike.

Having felt battle more and more, the instincts of a warrior seem to return to your muscles memory. And so you didn’t miss the opening after the statue’s attack. You spun around, using the momentum to get to your feet, with a quick step forward, you brought your sword down onto its leg. Drawing first blood, you kept the attack going as you jumped to its shoulder plunging your sword into it. The statue slightly slumped, it was a substantial start. Your overconfidence though hadn’t prepared you for a quick retaliation, the statue backhanded you across the arena. You could feel your ribs poking into your lung. You struggle to move your hand to your small pouch, taking the flask of yellow liquid to sip. Relief rushed over you, and your body had stitched itself together within an orange glow. 4

The Statue was already rushing towards you. Pushing yourself up, your second wind was bitter but strong. You ran to meet the enemy, you rolled past its next swipe and managed to hit its groin. The enemy turned to stomp on you. You jump back to avoid it, then step up the enemy’s leg. Jumping of its shin, you land a thrust in the same area the other blade had once been. The strike was true, the creature fell to its knees. Positioned below, you swung your sword upward to its throat. Your victory seemed assured. But to your horror, nothing was as it seemed. While you were cutting its throat, the dark shadowy mucus from its back was growing. The matter now smothered the statue, choking the space and growing into a large blob with a serpent head. You had no words to justify the feelings, but you tried.

“What godless thing is this!?” You quickly stepped back, just barely dodging the statue’s arm, and the mucus serpent’s bite. You took a moment to look for openings, but now they seemed unsure. The statue alone had large openings in attacks, but now the nature of the filthy blob around it made it impossible to discern. The angles the serpent could attack from seemed too flexible, and with no blind spots. However, it was held at bay up until now. You looked to your side where the strange bonfire blade sat, and you decided to go on a guess. You took a deep breath in, and then charged the enemy. But when the enemy seemed to attack as you approached its range, you pulled out your firebombs and threw it right at the serpent. The entirety of its body was engulfed in flames, shrieking in pain.

You throw another bomb, the black oozing serpent shrieks again. The creature and statue are forced backward. This is your chance. You charge towards the enemy. In response to your advance, the serpent lashes out to bite you with its giant maw. However, you throw your last bomb in its face. As the serpent shrieks once more, you jump forward with sword in hand. With a shout, you bring the blade down upon black serpent’s head. In one last groan of pain, it raises it’s head and limps backward. Following the black parasite on it, the statue falls backward as well. As it hits the ground, the enemy fades into a gray shimmering light. A glimmer of satisfaction trickles through your body. For as you stood tall with shoulders broad and chest out, a foreign welcoming thought passes your mind: “Victory Achieved.”

Your moment of pride is interrupted by a swirl of ethereal wisps fills your body. The feeling from before but vastly intensified. Not only that, but an even more odd sensation envelopes you; a warm vigor. It was similar to being at the bonfire, but it blazed gently within you. Strangely, you felt as if something precious had returned, like something or someone dear lost and now found. Even in exterior, small cinders crept along your attire. You touched your clothes, but there was no burn or heat. There was no explanation you could even fathom, but you had to carry on without one.

To add to the peculiarity, another unlit bonfire exactly like the other had appeared when the giant once kneeled. You reach out your hand, and like before, it ignites the flame. You feel the comfort of the fire envelope you, and your flask fills with the warm light of the golden liquid. All that was left to do was open the large wooden doors in your path. You reach out both hand on the two sides, and push your shoulders forward, slowly moving the doors.

Beyond the doorway, upon a hill with cracked stone stairs, was a construction of some kind. As you approached, it seemed to be a shrine made of stone and covered in moss. Going down the stairs leading into the shrine, you feel more and more comforting as you enter Standing on a surface leading down from two sets of stairs, you see a large circular room. The center was covered in ash, especially in a small indent with a mound of ash similar to the other bonfires. Looking around, you see that the shrine has another floor above, and reaching up to it in the circular room was a strange display of altars. The altars stood on large square pedestals, each one its own and going upward to one center and top altar. Now that you see carefully, they weren’t altars but seats, more like stone thrones. Only one throne to your left was being occupied by a small man. To the right, a man was sitting and hanging his head on another set of stairs leading upward to the second floor.

You look back down the center room floor, there was now someone looking at you. Although this was figurative, as the person was a woman with eyes covered by a silver tiara like accessory. She wore a black dress, a dark thin girdle separating the flowy loose skirt and the torso that hugged her lovely figure. The dress torso was covered by a hooded long black shawl, both of them embroidered with gold laced trimmings. Her arms were covered by a black tight wrapping up to the middle of her hands. Her long hair was beautiful platinum blonde, braided down. Her skin was pale, but the smile of her pink full lips was as warm as the bonfire. She was truly captivating to the eye, especially yours. Upon eye contact (so to speak) she gracefully bows her head to you.

“Greetings, Ashen One.” The woman said to you. You were lost for words for a moment, both because you didn’t understand the name “Ashen One” and you didn’t know how to greet her.

“Y-you speak of me?” you ask nervously. She nods her head.

“Yes, you are the Unkindled awoken to come to this place. I am a Fire Keeper, Ashen One. I tend to the flame, and I tend to thee.” For her to say she attends only made you stutter more. You couldn’t speak.

“Ashen One? Are you unwell?” You shake your head, but realize that’s the wrong way and quickly nod thrice.

“Yes, yes! I am just addled from all of this, M’lady. I confess, I know very little about the nature of my waking”

“I understand. I can explain whatever you need, Ashen One.”

“If you could aid me, would you call me by my name instead?” As you said this, the realization hit you, the most obvious thing you forgot but didn’t figure out until now: You don’t remember your name.

“My apologies, I couldn’t bring myself to be so informal. Being an Ashen One is a great honor, I would not deny you be called by it. I am sorry. However, it would be rude of me not to know the name of you Unkindled. May I know of it, my lord?” While she spoke to you. Something suddenly stirred in your chest. A feeling from the dark but born of the flame. You heard something, but you didn’t understand it. You kept listening, Moments passed in the dark, and you began to mouth the words without even knowing.

“I’m…(F/N). My name is (F/N.)

“Very well , Lord (F/N). If you truly wish I will call you that.”

With the flame in your bosom and a name in your heart, an identity of the body and mind started to fill the emptiness of your waking. It was a start.

“Yes. Please call me (F/N)

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