Fire and Dark. Life and Death. The endless cycle that has been in play since the time of Gwyn himself. A cycle of death and life, that had gone on for an eternity and more. It was this cycle that brought a particular Unkindled to the Kiln of the First Flame. The place where, so long ago, the Gods gained their power and began their war against the Everlasting Dragons. This Unkindled was garbed in the armor of a Cariman Knight, a set of plate and maille he earned upon his knighting. His tabard depicted the regal two-headed eagle of Carim, the Sun and Moon gripped in its talons. In his right hand, he held a simple straight sword, imbued with the power of the sun, and in his left a kite shield that bore a golden dragon rampant on a blue field. The knight had appeared at the Kiln bonfire only minutes before, having made all the last minute preparations he could. He walked up to the stone steps that led to the First Flame and hesitated only a moment before striding forth into the meadow. Blades of all types stuck from the ground like gravestones.

There, in the center of it all, was the Flame. Its once great radiance dwindling to embers. Resting in front of the fire was what looked to be an armored man. As he approached, the man stood and pulled the coiled sword from the Flame. The great being, the Soul of Cinder, surged forward, its blade coated in flame. The knight hastily brought his shield to bear, the enchantments weaved into the metal absorbing the physical blow and the heat of the blade. The first blow was followed by a flurry of metallic death, and it was all the knight could do to roll out of harm's way. He drew in a shaky breath and charged forth, bringing his blade down on the Soul with all that he could give. The being prepared a thrust and the knight turned the blade aside with his shield, before thrusting into the rib-like armor of its midsection. The being drew back and flipped away from the knight, it's blade taking the form of a scimitar. It drew back a hand before slamming it against its chest. The Soul took a sickly red tint as it was strengthened. Without further warning, it let loose a barrage of flame. Once again forcing the knight to rely on his shield. Using the shield to block, he rushed forward and slashed at the beings knees, hoping to unbalance it. It responded by backhanding him, sending him flying into the blade of a claymore. With a groan, he stood, and as quick as he could he sipped from a green flask, the liquid inside healing his injuries and easing his soreness. Suddenly, a cascade of crystal sorcery rained on his position. The deadly projectiles were only just dodged before he once again charged forward into the Soul. Quickly, he dashed behind the being and stabbed deep into its back. It fell to its knees as the last of its energy left it.

The knight pulled his blade free and began walking towards the flame, though he only made it a few feet before he heard the scraping of metal on the ground. With a start, he looked back and saw the Soul standing once more, its warped blade in hand. The Soul of Cinder plunged its blade into the earth, fire ran down its surface, and for just a moment the knight would have sworn he saw not the decrepit armor before him. Instead, he glimpsed a regal king, a three-pronged crown upon his head and a great nobility about him. The sight was gone in a flash as the being wrenched its blade out of the ground, a great ring of fire expanding outward and nearly boiling the knight in his armor. The being launched itself into the air, its blade poised to impale the knight. He dove to the side just in time and was just able to land a couple of hits before being forced back. Rolling away, he once again sipped the Estus and, feeling invigorated, ran back into the fray.

For what seemed like hours they fought, the Knight and the Lord, blades rending flesh and metal as each tried to wear down the other. In the end, the knight was battered and could hardly stand, having long ago run out of the healing powers of the Estus. The Soul was in little better shape, while it could not tire the damage it had sustained throughout the conflict had caused it to slow and its swings did not have the force they once did. In a last ditch effort to destroy the interloper, the Soul thrust forward with its blade. With the last of his strength, the knight parried the attack and charged forth, once again thrusting his blade into the shell of the Soul. The conglomeration of the past Lords gave a final, keening, wail before collapsing into dust leaving behind naught but its soul, casting an almost cheerful yellow glow. The knight stored the soul in his pouch before limping his way to the flame. As he neared he saw the glow of a summon sign. He reached down and touched the sign, calling forth the Firekeeper. His companion blurred into existence and stepped forward. She kneeled at the fire and took the small flame into her hands. The world around them grew dim, ever darkening.

"The First Flame quickly fades. Darkness will shortly settle. But one day, tiny flames will dance across the darkness. Like embers linked by lords past" she spoke, the world still dimming until the knight could not so much as see his hand in front of his face. He worried for a moment if this was the right choice if letting the Flame die was a good idea.

"Ashen One, hearest thou my voice still?" her voice pierced the inky blackness, providing him comfort and warmth. The knight walked forward to the Keeper who kneeled still next to the cold bonfire. He sank next to his dear companion and wrapped his arms around her.

"Yes, I hear you" he confirmed. His voice was raspy from disuse but nevertheless brought comfort to his companion. The Unkindled made a move to stand, but before he could rise fully he was overcome with a wave of exhaustion. He fell on his hands and knees and tried to catch his breath.

"Ashen One? What is wrong?" the urgency in her voice came as a surprise to him. The Ashen One attempted to speak, to reassure her, but he could not breathe let alone talk. He gave a single rasping breath before falling forward into the Firekeeper's lap. He forced himself to turn face up and felt his Firekeeper fumble with his helmet. She practically ripped it from his head and looked into his eyes. His right eye was a stunning blue that glowed in the unnatural darkness of the fireless kiln, but his left eye was what drew her gaze. His pupil had taken on a sinister red hue and had begun to grow, it spread until it took up the entire eye. A baleful red glow came from the socket, and the Firekeeper was shocked into silence. Then, as quickly as it had come, the red receded to its original state at his pupil.

The Ashen One's eyes slipped closed and he knew no more.

Author's Notes: This is a story that I have been working on every once in a while over the course of the last few months. I am only now starting to get back into it, and I need to get to updating my other two stories, so I have only a small backlog of chapters. With that in mind, it is going to be quite slow going.

Anyway, thanks for reading, review if you'd like, and have a wonderful day!

General Disclaimer: I do not own Dark Souls or Dragon Age and I am not attempting to profit on either of these IP's.