Darkness. That was all he knew. All he remembered. A complete, all encompassing Darkness. All he saw, all he thought, his entire existence devoured by Darkness. He did not want to live in Darkness, but to him, everything was Darkness. With his eyes he saw nothing but Dark. When he breathed, every breath was filled with Dark. When he moved, he moved within Dark. When he killed, his combat echoed and resounded with the Dark. It is all he knows. Yet, some part of him, some carnal, primal part of his being, said not everything is Dark. That there exists something beyond the Darkness. It wishes to escape the Dark. To not be consumed by Dark. It hopes that it will be freed from Darkness. He ignores it. He thinks he is fooling himself. He would if he could think beyond Darkness. He knows only Darkness, and hope cannot exist in Darkness. At some point, he thought that he died. He does not know if this is true. After being in Darkness for so long, he might as well be dead. He does not know how long he has been in Darkness. It wishes to come out of Darkness. He ignores it again. This will never happen.

The summoning circle is complete, all preparations have been made. Illya allows a smirk to grace her face, not because she is in a joyful mood, but because of what she will accomplish. She is sure of her victory. Not just in the Grail War, but her victory against Kiritsugu Emiya, the man who had betrayed her. With a deep breath, she begins her can hear the howling of wolves. She doesn't let that stop her. Not when she is almost done. The summoning circle crackles, magic violently thrashing about as a being is pulled from another plane of existence. She is summoning Berserker, a perfect choice for her. One that will be fueled by her hatred for the world and those that wronged her. With the power of Berserker, she will take revenge. She hears the howling again, closer this time. With a final violent thrash, the magic coalesces, bringing about a solid form. Before her stands, slightly hunched over, a man clad in dark grey armor with a tattered, faded blue cloak. Shadows appeared to dance around him, seemingly one with his form. His helmet, adorned with whip-like tassels concealed his face, revealing nothing but darkness. In his right hand, he wielded a greatsword, yet one side seemed to be extensively corroded. Illya glared at the creature. The howling resounds once more.

It was sudden. He was pulled. He knew not from where or how, but, even in the Dark, he noticed a change in location. Not that it mattered to him. And yet, the part of himself that he thought forever quelled, felt something he had long forgotten. It was yearning. Yearning for something outside the Dark. More intense than he had ever known. It made him question why. For what reason, in this infinite Darkness, could he yearn for anything? What is there to yearn for? His existence is naught but Dark. That is when he saw. For what had felt like an eternity for him, he saw something that was not Dark. It was bright, warm, gleaming with a resplendence he had long forgotten. It stirred within him the same feelings as when he gazed upon his King's gross incandescence. However the image before him was no king, but a little girl. Her gaze was stern and unyielding, red eyes highlighted by her fair skin. Somehow, he was reminded of his passion for someone he knew in his past. He was perplexed. He wondered if this was an illusion, his mind playing tricks on him. He felt this was not the case as his mind had been lost to the Dark long ago. That's when he heard the howls. From his flank, the girl was pounced upon by a pack of wolves, voraciously snarling and biting. He looked at them. They reminded him of his faithful companion. But, he knew, his companion was no more. He hated this. With a swing of his sword, the wolves were cleaved, leaving the girl relatively unharmed. She stood again.

"...This is not what I expected Berserker to be," She said. He did not understand. " I was expecting Heracles, but perhaps I summoned you because you resonate more strongly with my aims." He looked around, but saw the land blanketed by white. "I am Illyasviel von Einzbern." He looked at her. That name was not familiar. "Do you have a name?" She asked. A name, he wondered. His mind felt clouded, the Dark still having a firm hold on him. Yet, looking at the girl before him, his thoughts felt clearer, as if by some force she was pushing away the Dark that had encased him for so long. Most of his memories were unclear. The first things that appeared in his mind were the visages of his King, his faithful companion, and his lover. But what was he called? Silence passed between them. Yet, the longer he looked at her, the less of the Dark he felt. It was intoxicating to him. To look at and hear things that were not the Darkness made him want to never leave this girl's side. And then he remembered. How he came to exist only in Dark, and why he ventured toward the Darkness in the first place.

"So," She said, but he had yet to respond. "Your name is Artorias."

This is probably the 5th or 6th worst idea I've ever had. Please excuse the pacing and wording, this was sort of a style experiment for me. The rest of the story will be more coherent than this.