Appearance of the White Lady

Chapter 1: An unexpected journey

The cave was small and dark and filled with painful memories. Yet, leaving it felt like I was abandoning a part of myself. Fortunately, it was exactly what I sought, to leave this part of me locked there, in this forgotten corridor.

I walked to the circular room, directly linked to the cave. It was difficult to see it when it was buried underground, but the circular room is actually the inside of a tower. There wasn't so much space available, with the center of the room being used as part of a lift system, and a spiral staircase on the side, a human could have walked around freely but I had to be careful to not hit something by accident.

The ground was sticky and covered of broken pieces of discoloured eggs. The whole area was bathing in dried indistinct living fluids, which had splashed once the eggs had been crushed. The one who smashed everything, the wanderer, had done the job ruthlessly. I could see vestiges of his onslaught on the walls where the eggs had grown. There were marks of a blunt weapon on the lower level of the walls, and proof of explosions higher, where the wanderer couldn't reach with his weapons. Thankfully, the stones of the building were sturdy.

While I was impressed by the scale of devastation my saviour brought here, looking at the remnants of the diseased eggs gave me nothing more than a feeling of hollowness. I gave so much for these eggs, suffered for so long, only to find them so expertly put asunder at my feet. I didn't even mind that much.

I realized then how desperately delusional I became in order to fool the pain my body was living in. I was ashamed of myself, of the state of mind I had been in for the past thousand years. I didn't even want my progeny to be birthed. I was merely toying with the idea of the life my tainted offspring would have lived, ignoring the fact that they would never leave their eggs unscathed, and that nature wouldn't be so cruel as to let them survive. I became addicted to the poison preventing me to heal, and then Eingyi did nothing against it.

I shook my head and walked. I couldn't allow myself to start analyzing my errors now. Eingyi was the proof I couldn't trust myself, especially about not affording myself to drown in my own guilt and shame. I didn't want to be unhappy, and thinking about what I was doing, or what I had been doing would only hamper this aim. I walked.

The room had several exits, each leading someone elsewhere. The stairs would be the first steps to reach the open sky. The system of elevation would take someone deeper underground. There was another entrance, a hole dug through a wall in fact, which would bring to the magmatic grotto. And then, the corridor where I came from, a forgotten path I had been using as hideout.

Slowly, I went to the staircase, in direction of the open sky. It was difficult to climb upstairs, I didn't have much space, but I managed after much effort.

During my ascent, I was able to see the magmatic grotto. A gigantic space where lava had flown since the appearance of the Primordial Flame. Once a wonder of nature, one I would look at with fondness if not for the toxic emanations it produced which stifled my throat, the reason why I was currently mute. But now, the liquid fire had disappeared, only leaving the way to an old path towards the heart of my homeland.

Looking at the flowing magma was reminding me of my dear, poor little brother. He suffered as much as I had, if not more. Losing his body, losing his ring, losing us, his family, twisted in a gigantic distortion of his own body while watching over our dead sister's body, the only one who stayed with him, and trying to forget the consuming heat of the lava over his sores. At least, until my saviour slayed him.

I bear no grudge towards the wanderer to have killed him, or what remained of him. Even when I was in the corridor, my domain, I could feel his agony. I heard him once, venting his anguish and his rage against the rock of the grotto. It had been merciful to slay him, of at least what had been him a long time ago, before the Flame of Chaos mutated him into the Ceaseless Discharge. May he now rest in peace.

To rest in peace... I lied. I do bear resentment against the wanderer, but it wasn't because he slayed my family.

I shook my head, it was unbecoming of me to be jealous.

I reached the end of the staircase and continued my way. Leaving the tower, I went into another chamber. It was huge room with more space to move. An uneven ground with roughly paved stones, and grown unfertile eggs on the walls. I knew the room. I remember it. It is the exit towards the Great Swamp, the link between our now lost homeland of Izalith and the world under the sky. It was the domain of my sister Quelaag.

Quelaag died here.

I felt like my heart wanted to be torn out of my body. I took the sword on my back and clutched it tightly to my chest, reassuring myself in the proximity of its embrace. I walked faster and faster in direction of the exit. If I started to think about anything right now, I would cry and I couldn't afford myself this much leisure.

I have to focus on the sun.

Blurring the difference between walking and running, I left the underground cavern via the passage leading to Blighttown only to appear in front of something which looked like a swamp, but wasn't a swamp. I was at the opening of the entrance, on an islet of sand, roots sprouting out of the ground. I could only watch, astonished at the sight of the area.

There was a vast body of liquid, huge pylons of stone built around, a cliff on my left and a sky high wall on my right. For those things I knew I was in the Great Swamp, but if it wasn't for those distinctive features, I would have thought had I landed somewhere else, for I saw hell.

Demons, childrens of the Flame of Chaos, came here and cursed the place. Scourge and diseases had flown and corrupted the land. Noxious blood poisoned the water, darkening the mud. The sheer atmosphere was fetid, the air putrescent, local odours mixed with a dreadful smell of putrefaction. I was for the first time thankful for the fact that my stomach was absolutely void of any food for I would have emptied it right away.

I looked around this unnaturally wretched underworld. Horrendous beasts had grown in this geographical affliction. My eggs weren't the only unnatural things there, in this blight. Decay was omnipresent.

There is nothing worse than life without health. I had recently had an occasion to brand this sentence deep into my flesh, but now I had the opportunity of witnessing it with my own two eyes. Those vile monsters were only the mutated remains of the species they had been prior to their corruption. Poisonous giant mosquitoes, overgrown leeches, fire-spitting spider-like crawling things. There were also mad giant humanoids, insane barbarians fighting with clubs and throwing boulders. Those unlucky creatures had been turned into abominations.

It was such a horrible sight it was painful to watch. It hurt even more knowing I had been part of the origin of this corruption. Watching those pieces of poisonous living meat, I could only think of the Flame of Chaos, and the physical shape it assumed, the Bed of Chaos, as responsible for this nightmare.

I remembered the wanderer had told me what he had to fight through to reach me but I was still unsettled to see the swamp's distorted beasts. The name Blighttown was sadly a perfect match to this place. Once again, guilt and sorrow filled me. I was too emotional. I would have to calm down, I had to focus on the sun.

I had to move, or I would do nothing and continue to think.

Something clicked inside of me. I became lucid, I resolved the problem, the solution coming to me naturally. I recalled happy children, playing in a garden. I would do the same thing as them.

I would crush the bugs under my feet.

First, I met huge barbarians. I incinerated their flesh until nothing remained but ashes. Then I cut down the crawling leeches, monstruosities huge enough to reach the knee of a human. I continued this way, slaughtering every vermin coming across my path. While it had been the only way to advance with my current body, it didn't mean I wasn't doing it with zeal.

I was enjoying the slaughter. I was intoxicated by the idea of having power over others, it was refreshing to see myself being able to tear everything apart. As crude as it was to enjoy power through physical violence, I had been without it for so long that the power to make sure the things I wanted dead were killed was pleasurable anew.

Through flames and steel, I made my path through the creatures's corpses. My flame, tainted by the Chaos, shared my incendiary impulses, resonating with my heart's desires. I made sure to use each body I incinerated as fuel to fill my heart with joy.

The sword was more than willing to lend me its strength. It is the best weapon I could have dreamed of in my condition. One hundred and forty centimeters long, the sheer length of the blade was allowing me to fight foes smaller than I, like the crawling things and the leeches. The shape of the blade was making it possible to use it as both a spear and a sword, with an affinity for thrusts and slashes. The flames coming out of the blade each time I brandished it were perfect to take care of smaller targets like the poisonous mosquitoes.

I could feel it, deep inside my bones. This sword is Quelaag. That the remnants of her consciousness were recognizing me, even in this appearance, could alone have brought me to tears. But the sword prevented it, overwhelming me with the warmth of its embrace. And so, I wielded Quelaag's Furysword.

Cutting things apart with a blade had never been so enjoyable before. Slaughter is always more enjoyable to do along with family.

But all things came to an end, and no matter how cathartic it was to burn everything, I couldn't find a way to reach the higher levels of the city. Time and violent creatures had destroyed the roads and the elevators used to go higher.

Had I my former body, I could have managed, using the giant wheel as an alternative elevator for example. But I wasn't anthropomorphic anymore, and my current body was too big for improvized means humans and the undead could use. Monsters tried to kill me every so often, so I couldn't find a way to continue on an already destroyed road with vermin rushing after me. They were too numerous for me to use anything else than my pyromancy, further destroying the damaged rubble of what could have been stairs.

Even with all my litteral firepower, I couldn't last long. My lungs and my throat were filled with soot. I had been trapped in my domain for too long to not be weakened by the magmatic emanations. I was quickly losing my breath fighting the corrupted monstruosities. My throat was sere, and my weak muscles screamed in pain against the abuse I had put them through. It was to be expected, to have atrophied muscles if you had stayed still for such a long time as I had.

My stomach was also painfully making me aware of its physical vacuum.

It was useless to work on something if I were distracted restlessly, thus, I went into one of the tunnels, dug into the cliff, to catch my breath back.

Originally, the tunnel was supposed to be a drain, driving used water to the lowest level of Blighttown, the swamp, where I currently was. Since the downfall of Lordran's population, it no longer had a use. I was quite lucky in the fact that there was a bonfire inside it, thus, making the tunnel a perfect place to rest.

I no longer felt the vacuum of my stomach, being filled by the energy the bonfire granted me, as a firekeeper, to survive. My last meal's memory was so far away back in the past that I wasn't sure my mouth remembered how to chew. It was a problem all undead could relate to. The thought that it may be possible that no skilled cook existed in Lordran anymore was depressing.

Trying to think about something less glum, I imagined one of the undead failing to cook a stew, without knowing why, because he no longer had a functioning nose and tongue. I tried to laugh, but it was harming my throat.

I wondered about what the wanderer was doing. He was there during my rehabilitation, he told me his story to make me think about something else and he asked my advice. He was preparing himself to defeat the Lord of Sunlight, and wanted to know my thoughts about it.

It had been a while since I last saw him. I didn't know if he fought Gwyn yet. While Gwyn's defeat was ineluctable, I was still uncertain about how long the battle between the god and the wanderer, the immovable object against the irrepressible force, would last.

After hearing what Gwyn had done following our failure with the kindling of the Second Flame, I told him everything I knew which could prove to be valuable for his fight against Gwyn, and for the aftermath of his triumph.

Gwyn, The Lord of Sunlight is overwhelming. His power originates from the Lord Soul he took from the First Flame, soon after the beginning of Disparity, giving him dominion over the light, all sources of light. He dominates both lightning and stars, while having influence over fire. He might as well be called The Lord of the Sky, and the Lord of the Outer Fire in addition to his other titles, as Leader of the Gods, and King of Anor Londo. For Gwyn, the sun is merely an illustration of his own power over the world.

Thankfully for the wanderer, the reason he had to fight the Gwyn was because he went to the Kiln of the First Flame in the core of the world, hoping that the other gods would find a solution to perpetuate their reign, the Age of Fire. The Kiln being in the core of the planet, it would prevent Gwyn from striking down his foe from the sky. At least not without destroying the world first. Something which wouldn't be impossible. At least, during his prime.

Being the fuel of the Kiln would also have extremely reduced him, it wouldn't have surprised me if he had become nothing more than a husk of his previously glorious self. He had stayed in the Kiln almost as long as I in my domain, it would of course have horribly crippled him. He had been burning for a thousand years already.

It was all the wanderer would need.

But even when the wanderer would come out victorious of the divinicide, he would still have things to take care of therafter. Nobody would want to fight Gwyn for glory, sane or not, weakened or not, undead or not. When the wanderer would slay Gwyn, he would do it so to achieve his fate as Chosen Undead.

But what would result from it?

This prophecy of the Chosen Undead and the wanderer's story were part of one of the most downright suspicious ploys I have ever heard of. Only the Serpents, Velka and Seath would be devious enough to imagine a story like that, and especially bold enough to enact it.

The Serpents's movements are too random to make a proper estimation over the range of their influence, they might as well be everywhere. It was easier thinking about Seath who stayed in the same place. Seath, at least, couldn't be the mastermind, he wouldn't let one of his experiments roam freely so near the Archives, and anyway, this Undead Asylum the wanderer told me about wasn't part of his sphere of influence. In fact, if one had to have influence over this asylum, it would be Velka, the Goddess of Sin.

Since Seath couldn't be the culprit, the main suspects were either Velka or the Serpents. Both had their reasons to wipe Lordran from Gwyn. Velka would punish the god for Priscilla's exile and for his tyranny and the Serpents would accelerate the coming of the Dark, not unlike what happened to Oolacile.

I shivered when I shared my suspicions with the wanderer. Putting it into words made it easier to imagine it. The plot could come from both Velka and the Serpents. It wasn't even necessarily a verbal agreement. Velka would send the undead to Lordran thanks to her loyal servant, her timeless Snuggly the Crow and would let the Serpents goad her champion into slaying the gods. The Serpents would only have to await the undead, sent with the blessing of the exiled goddess, and then manipulate him into killing all who could oppose the coming of the Dark.

No matter what the Chosen Undead chose to do afterwards his triumph, Gwyn's death would speed up the end of the Age of Fire and the coming of the Dark.

I did care somewhat about the fate of the wanderer, but I accepted the fact that I couldn't do anything about it. The bonfire was still alight near me, but it wouldn't last. If the wanderer killed Gwyn, bonfires would be extinguished and the wanderer might not want to sacrifice himself to kindle them anew. I was acting on a time limit. It was all that mattered to me.

That, and the fact I smelt of shit.

Reality came down on me at last, along with the impulse to clean myself from the disgusting scent. At least, while the air was reeking of decaying faeces, it was left alone by the monsters thanks to the fact it wasn't filled with the poisonous mud. The conduit was built to release liquids in one direction, not in the other. It means bugs could only come from one direction, which made it easier to crush them.

It was disgusting, but in exchange for the filthiness coming with the splattered blood and bile, I had some semblance of modesty on my naked body. I wanted to laugh when I seriously considered to choose between modesty and filth. Only my sore throat prevented me from actually doing it. The fact that I willingly used the blood of the bugs I killed as layer of cloth was a proof of how dire my situation was.

I had to move. And quickly.

I was sitting near the bonfire, from a position which enabled me to watch the exit. Taking my time to get my breath back, I stared at the flames, thinking about the next step of my plan.

I want to see the sun, and drink water.

It wasn't as if I had anything to gain from staying underground, and I was still underground because I had nothing left to lose. With nothing more than my mind, I would soon drown myself in my guilt. To stay in Izalith in those circumstances would bring me nothing but despair. I hadn't survived for so long only to regret that I didn't die sooner. And now I had a goal.

But I was at the bottom of a swamp in the middle of a rift valley. Roots of archtrees, gigantic trees, were blocking the sunlight from this hellhole, and the swamp was so polluted that I would prefer to drink sand rather than let its pollution reach my lips.

Blighttown's buildings were too damaged to be used to reach the surface. My way back, through Quelaag's domain, would not lead me anywhere I wanted to go. I took care of my followers before deciding to crawl to the surface, and I didn't want to go there again. I could try to explore the swamp, but it would lead me nowhere, and creatures would fall on me like ants on a piece of dead meat. And if I stayed, vermin would attack me anyway….

I was trapped and I didn't know where to go. I felt things crawling outside the tunnel, moving in the infested mud of the swamp. Sooner or later, the swamp, or its inhabitants, would kill me. The creatures were too numerous for me to be able to burn them all. One day, they would outnumber me.

Trying to reach the upper levels of Blighttown would be nigh impossible, and I would die buried in the rubble.

Going into the swamp would quickly kill me, I would be nothing more than bait for every ambushed vermin I would find buried in the mud.

Staying in the tunnel would sooner or later kill me, and I would die buried in shit.

Going back to my domain and I would die, killing myself in despair and guilt, buried in tragic memories and magma.

This knowledge came down on my head with the solemnity of a gravestone. My situation, even perceived objectively, was hopeless. I didn't know what to do.

Should I try to steal the dream of my sister Quelaag? To abandon myself in bloodlust and make a last woman's stand against the swamp's abominations, slaughtering everything until my turn finally came? With the remnants of my sister's soul, her Furysword, it shouldn't be too hard.

But it was Quelaag's fantasy, not my own, and if I died this way, even while she would have praised me for the martial feat, I would die regretting to have borrowed the death she always wanted, instead of my own. I was tired of being guilty and I didn't need any additional regrets. I had desires to fulfill first.

Knowing her anyway, she would have prefered other circumstances to do something so extremely utterly reckless. She would have wanted a damsel in distress to save, most likely me, as she fought fearlessly against all my evil and lubricious suitors. Not that she hadn't done it before. She always had a fancy for drama.

She wouldn't want to be heroic alone in a swamp, especially in Blighttown. There is nothing epic in this swamp. Just plain putrid water with foul monsters around. No food, no warmth, no public, and more importantly, no beautiful virgins she could forcefully drag to our inn to take care of.

The nostalgia made me smile, and I refocused my thoughts on my problem.

What did I have to do to reach the sun?

…..

I would have started to speak to myself in this kind of situation, but I couldn't. I was left alone even by my own voice, forced to wander inside my own head. It was exactly what I was trying to avoid before coming there. Now, my situation was only worse. No, the situation wasn't worse, I just realized how bad it actually was.

Five minutes easily before I admitted I couldn't find a solution. I sighed. I needed something else to avoid thinking about something bad.

Thankfully, something happened.

I was taken by surprise when, suddenly, something started. On the wall of the tunnel, on my right, purple light appeared out of nowhere and burned itself into letters. Slowly, as though being written by a delicate hand, symbols inscribed themselves, one by one into the wall.

Glowing in a purple light, I could feel the spell - for it was obvious the phenomenon was part of an unusual supernatural feat - that created these symbols was destined to me. Strangely enough, even if I didn't know the alphabet composing the message, I was still able to make out its meaning:

My name is Tiffania Westwood.

Pentagon of the five elemental powers, heed my summoning and bring forth my familiar.

I had never encountered this kind of magical phenomena before, it was some kind of long distance spell which could find someone and write a message on the nearest surface. I wondered how it had been created. It gave off an unusual feeling, one difficult to explain, like a presence, but without an individual to exult it.

I remembered the words of the Knight with the armour covered in spikes. He told me the world had changed. Lordran's perception of time had changed, becoming hazardous, and an item, a soapstone of a specific colour could be used to summon people from elsewhere for a brief time.

To put it into a nutshell, some kind of item allowing someone to use a summoning ritual or some sort of spell bending space.

I would have loved to work on the phenomenon, I never had the chance to work on instantaneous travel. It would have greatly helped me with my theory on teleportation, some hundreds of years ago before the disaster, to work with a space-time bending item. All I would have needed was those soapstones, some test subjects, time and it would have been fairly easy. Unfortunately, time and resources were exactly what I lacked. I only had this message, which could disappear anytime.

The Knight of Thorns told me how it looked, and this message seemingly looked like one of those summoning invitations. Thus, what should I do with this invitation? If I was summoned elsewhere, I would most probably have to fight. To summon beings as powerful as I in times of peace would be wasteful. I would still have to fight, it is the reason why this message had been sent.

Or maybe they summoned me hoping I would share with them my limitless knowledge and wisdom, in which case they couldn't have make a better decision. As a witch of Izalith, I was more knowledgeable than any human sorcerer could hope to be. Some of them, like this Big Hat Logan the wanderer mentioned, might be more brilliant than I, but it wasn't uncommon for some humans to develop a stroke of genius. My knowledge and experience is far greater, expanding over thousand of years.

It would be great if I just had to share my wisdom, but I didn't want to desillusion myself anymore. The last time I indulged myself in this kind of mistake was still fresh in my mind, especially for a being as ancient as I.

I would have to fight. Only in Blighttown I was sure that I would die at some point. In fact, this invitation was a boon, it was summoning me elsewhere, I would maybe not have to deal with the swamp's atrocities. No, I wasn't even sure I would still be in Blighttown if I was summoned, I could also be summoned directly in the great city of Anor Londo.

While I thought about it, monsters outside the tunnel continued to crawl in the mud. I took a huge breath, making sure to smell each nuance of odour in the air, decaying faeces first. I wouldn't have to deal with this anymore.

Even if I deluded myself, I was sure of the fact that I had nothing else to lose than my life, my mind and the sword, and I had everything to gain from leaving this place. I couldn't think of a worst place to be than the poisonous swamp, so there was no reason why leaving it would be stupid, every other place being better than this one. Even with my luck, I would not be unlucky enough to be summoned to fight something as dangerous as Nito, or as mad as Seath. Worse, Gwyn himself.

Even if I was summoned for only a few hours, I could still use that time to reach the sun. It was all I asked. And if even then I couldn't reach the sun, at least, I would not be alone for a while.

Touching the message carved with my hand, and closing my eyes, I focused my mind on it, and accepted the summoning.

- Scene Break -

The ground changed. It was still composed of stones, but its feeling had completely changed, it wasn't even inclined on a side anymore. It was an honest-to-Gwyn floor I could expect from an Astorian fortress.

For my greatest delight, the air too had changed. From the pestilential atmosphere of Blighttown, it had become one of a windy night. I could feel the wind on my skin, even with the dried blood covering me. I would have to take a bath to properly appreciate the feeling of the cold wind.

While the wind licked my skin, I didn't feel any sunlight. It would mean that either I was inside a great fortress which had wind coming from outside, or I was in open air at night. Both are good alternatives, way better than Blighttown.

Slowly, I opened my eyes, my smile widening.

Until something fell on my arse.

The statement itself was wrong, but it was still true. It was wrong to think I had an arse anymore, I had been discarded of such part of my anatomy a long time ago. Nonetheless, while the lower part of my body had been replaced in favour of an arachnid one, I could apparent the abdomen, the big part at the rear of the spider, to my arse since my humanoid upper body was sewed by the waist to its cephalotorax, the front part of the spider.

Of course, a spider's abdomen is a lot more than just a digestive system and a way to excrete but it was easier for me, as an anthropomorphic being by birth, to think of the result of my mutation as such.

And so something fell on my arachnid arse. Judging from the weight of the item and the sound it screamed as it fell and made contact with my exoskeleton, it was most likely a human who fell from some high place.

This event was too unexpected for me to do anything about it. My legs were already exhausted from the exertion I put them through during my adventure in Blighttown. None of my forty eight joints resisted as my main body hit the floor, my eight legs bent, forced to give in. It was painful. I was used as a cushion to this unexpected aggressor, feeling the impact going through every inch of my body. I would have yelped from sheer shock had my throat been anything other than scorched.

As soon as I understood what happened, I drew my sister's sword out of my back and made a violent motion with my body to throw off my aggressor, I didn't want an opponent riding on my back. It was my most obvious blind spot, a particularly weak one for a spider. I felt him being thrown to the floor, too unprepared against my sudden action. My muscles spasmed painfully once I finished the motion, still weak from the rascal's sudden fall.

Night had fallen and only moonlight illuminated the place, it was enough for me. Looking around for the first time, I noticed that I was right, my new environment was some kind of courtyard paved with stone, with a tower of the same material built near. I didn't recognize the architecture but it wasn't my priority. I had someone to take care of.

I found my target, where I felt him fall, he was trying to move, but he was still disoriented. The rascal was wearing a deep blue cape and had a sheath strapped to his right shoulder, but it seemed he had lost his weapon, or most probably left it before he fell. I would burn him anyway.

I had already drawn Quelaag's Furysword, I might as well use it. The blade was sharing my anger. Rushing to him with my eight legs, I made use of the adrenaline reaching my brain to ignore the pain of my mistreated muscles. Swinging the furysword, flames started to appear from its edge, eager to consume his flesh.

I must have been quite careless because I heard someone nearby incanting something, and threw flames to protect my aggressor. It was a very fast pyromancy. The flames, taking the shape of a wild snake, went directly after my wrist. I jumped back, retreating from this surprise attack. The fire snake quickly disappeared after failing its assault.

I have never seen such pyromancy before.

The first thought that went through was that one of my sisters was here, but I squashed this desperate fantasy as fast as it came. I turned to see the origin of this praiseworthy accomplishment, and found a bald middle-aged man, with a staff catalyst. He wore blue robes and glasses. He looked at me cautiously, six meters away from me.

I was astonished. I never thought I would fight a pyromancer from outside the covenant. When the wanderer told me he had learned pyromancy, I had been an inch away from apoplexy. Right now, I wasn't as shocked as when he told me, but I was surprised, I didn't think I would find another human pyromancer, especially so quickly after my release from my domain.

Us of the Izalith covenant weren't supposed to teach pyromancy to outsiders. Mother herself prohibited it, forced by Gwyn, to prevent us from creating an army of pyromancers. From what the wanderer said, Quelana taught the inhabitants of the Great Swamp pyromancy once Gwyn went to the Kiln and the other gods left.

I was honestly surprised. It is difficult to make fast, or flash pyromancies because of a problem of control. Pyromancies are simple to understand, but difficult to use without doing harm to oneself during the process. It is why the covenant avoided swift pyromancies by caution, to make sure we do not harm ourselves by accident.

To use a pyromancy as fast and still as strong as this snake of fire, he must have a control over the fire I would have never thought possible for humans, even from the wanderer.

I was furious.

He tried to harm me with the art Quelana taught to humans. Knowing her, as a dear sister of mine, she must have started to teach pyromancy out of pity and desperation, in the same way I acted with my followers, only with a less self-destructive approach. The only survivor, miraculously unscathed only due to the fact she ran away as fast as possible like the cowardly crybaby she was, she ended her escape in a peaceful swamp which would soon after be violated and corrupted by the same monstruosities who killed her family, demons who appeared only because of a failed ritual we had started.

Even if she had been as tough as Mother, she would have cried in despair. Crybaby Quelana had most likely been brought to the edge of sanity. The Great Swamp being rampaged by demons, she must have sympathized with its inhabitants who lost everything too. It was surely then that she taught them pyromancy. She was the most afraid of the Flame amongst us, and most likely traumatized after the Bed of Chaos disaster. Still, she shared her fire. She understood her future disciples would prefer to burn themselves than die in a cold and muddy swamp. She had been cruel to give them such a choice, a cold death or a life filled with harm and warmth.

Crybaby Quelana has always been like this, and this is why I admired her.

Quelana made it possible for mankind to manipulate for the first time the primitive fire which gave birth to the Disparity with their own bare hands. She had taught them to fight against the dark and the cold when their houses had been destroyed, when the swamp wished their death, she taught them a way to defeat demons and survive.

And now, her disciples are using her art to harm me, the sister of their Mother of Pyromancies, their saviour who disobeyed a direct order from the Lord of Sunlight to rescue them? The sun is too mild for them.

They shouldn't have given reason for Quelana to possibly regret her decision. Should I allow my sister to blame herself because her disciples were harming me, her only remaining sister?

Never.

I didn't think the first humans I would find would show me such a treacherous behaviour. Their only redeeming feature compared to this despisable worm of Eingyi was that at least they were honestly blunt. The idea of using the stone tower nearby as a pyre, and awaiting the coming of the dawn was creeping into my mind.

The rascal on the ground was seemingly harmless, except if he was the disciple of this pyromancer, in this case he would try to cast me something. By caution, I moved away from the boy, while keeping the same distance with the pyromancer. He tried to harm me with a pyromancy, I would not let him believe he had a sliver of a chance to win against me.

Sheathing the Furysword in my back, I showed the pyromancer my two empty hands. The bald man seemed to ease up, believing I was giving up the fight, was he this naive? He was going to regret it. I created a fireball, a basic pyromancy, in my right hand, the size of a small flask. The pyromancer blinked.

I threw the fireball at him. He was confused for an instant, which was odd. The fireball wasn't dangerous in appearance, and I threw it at his feet. When the fireball started to shift before its explosion, the pyromancer, instantly, dropped into a roll, avoiding most of the damage. Instantly, he cast another spell on me. It was some kind of spear of fire, thrown at my waist, the link between the two parts of my body.

I side jumped it. Having eight legs can be useful to make powerful movements as long as you are prepared, even if it's harder to control than two. This pyromancy was slower than the flame snake he had launched before. Speed wasn't needed, it was a distraction. While I avoided it, the man incanted something else.

It was odd. While using a staff could help to add range to pyromancies, incantations were useless. Did he mix pyromancies and sorceries?

I tried to work on this concept a long time ago, after someone had given me the idea. It hadn't worked well. It was to be expected when you are working with an old hermit taking advice from his collection of dead dogs' ghosts, all bearing variants of his wife's name. At least he was saner and less dangerous than Seath.

My opponent had probably met a lot more success than I in this experience.

The pyromancer finished his incantation, and aimed his foci at me. A huge wave of fire came out of the staff in my direction. It was a widespread version of the fire surge. One large enough to overwhelm me by its sheer size. Quickly, I generated a powerful combustion from my hands. A huge explosion of flames appeared from within the palms of my hands, dismissing the wave of flames as my gust of fire came into life.

I was surprised. This wave of fire was quite powerful, I looked in the direction of the pyromancer, only to frown, the man was battle-hardened. I took care of one of his powerful pyromancies without difficulty and he didn't even blink. He likely had several trump cards up his sleeve if he could allow such pyromancy to fail.

Avoiding letting him learn too much about the extent of my mastery over the art, I just cast once again weak fireballs at him at a different pace each time, observing him. He side stepped the first one, avoided the second and used his staff somehow to parry the third, avoiding damage. He countered with an another wave of flames, this time I parried it with a fire whip, a tongue of fire coming from my hands. I continued my onslaught, casting a few more fireballs only for him to continue avoiding these.

It was strange.

Why was he taking his time, attacking without wanting to harm? From the amount of power we were willing to use against each other, we could have been sparring partners. I wondered if he was the one who had summoned me. Unlikely, he didn't look like someone named Tiffania. A fortress at night, a summoning, a boy falling from a tower. I was unable to find a credible explanation. I didn't know, and in fact, it didn't matter. The only explanation I could think of right now was that he had summoned me to have an organic cushion in order to save the boy, in which case I would kill him most painfully anyway, which was already my plan.

It was the middle of the night, and I still had to reach the sun. It was not a question of location anymore, to have the sunlight touch my skin, it was now a question of time. I felt my hopes rising at this simple thought. I have to survive until the dawn. I only have to finish this fight quickly to be prepared for the rest of the night.

The gifted pyromancer, realizing I was preparing myself, took back his stance, ready to continue to fight.

It seemed he wasn't the kind to attack first. I didn't see why I wouldn't use it to my advantage. I was so tired I was having trouble standing on my own legs, I would have to finish it quickly. Going for the kill, I conjured one of my most potent pyromancies, an orb of fire tainted by the power of the Chaos Flame, part of which lived inside of me. He could not possibly know this detail of my physiology, giving me an edge against him.

My pyromancy flame, my ancient, powerful flame started to ignite violently in my palm. The fire I produced within my hand wanted to free itself and devour everything, to lash out on my flesh, but I crushed this blazing impulse with a thought. It was more difficult than I would have liked, I was far from being in top condition, being more tired, famished and desperate than I would have liked to admit. Nonetheless, I was too skilled and experienced to burn myself on my own fire, even tainted by the Flame of Chaos.

Instead of the fireball, the most basic pyromancy, the one the covenant first ever created back in the Age of Ancients, I conjured a more dangerous Great Chaos fireball.

The content of the pyromancy was no longer inside my hand, it was big enough instead, to have my hand at its heart. The flames were no longer yellow and red, but white hot. The heat had increased as well. I condensed an inferno of flames which could have consumed a house into an orb smaller than a skull to cover, as a layer, the living molten lava at the core of the pyromancy, which dripped from my hand.

This pyromancy was nothing more than an abomination made possible by the raw existence of the Flame of Chaos, a flame seeking the living, eating the flesh and being fueled by the Dark. It only created a gluttonous lava eager to consume all life. I felt the dark matter inside of me, human souls, stir as I unleashed their predator into my pyromancy. Keeping humanities inside one's self whilst calling upon the Flame of Chaos makes the pyromancy hungry, wilder and more eager to eat. Only my mastery over pyromancy and my familiarity with this thrice cursed Flame allowed me to restrain the two opposite elements, keeping my body away from being wreaked inside out. If there was one death my whole being would refuse, it would be to be killed by my own pyromancy because I wasn't careful enough.

The orb was burning like a miniature sun in my hand, promising to destroy everything it touched. I have slain castle-sized dragons with flames less harmful than what resided in the palm of my hand.

The pyromancer started to incant something else, a powerful defensive sorcery judging from the way he held his staff. He had good instincts, but he should have run away instead. Even his greatest spell would be for naught against something as potent as what I had conjured.

I prepared myself to cast the spell, seeking to eradicate him mercilessly by aiming above his head in order to shower him in the burning magma of my pyromancy, obliterating him even in the chance he had to escape, when once again I was taken by surprise.

Someone appeared between us.

It wasn't the pyromancer's apprentice, it was a girl. She was dressed like some kind of student, with a short skirt, a white shirt, and a dark-coloured cape. I didn't even notice her presence until she threw herself between me and my opponent, shouting something. With both her arms raised on each side, in the middle of the fight, I supposed she wanted us to stop the fight.

I didn't know her, I had never seen her before, I think I had never heard her language before. Nonetheless, when I saw her, I felt a strange feeling, the same presence I felt when I saw the message in Blighttown's tunnel. The shapeless presence had now someone to project it. I immediately understood who she was.

Tiffania Westwood.

Panic crept into my mind. Why did she have to throw herself in front of one of the most dangerous pyromancies I could cast?!

I couldn't stop my arm from throwing the voracious fireball, if I tried to let it fall, I would be hit by my own pyromancy, and I knew exactly how lethal it would be. The pyromancer, panicked too, ran to the girl. Hopefully he would die protecting her.

Quickly, instead of throwing the chaos fireball to the pyromancer, I threw it far away, in the direction of his left side, the farthest possible from the girl. My arm made a motion through the air, and the fireball flew. While it was in the air, all I could hope for was that I had properly made the pyromancy, and that no magma would fly off on its own to reach the one in the middle.

It was an unnecessary concern, I was a Daughter of Chaos, my mastery over pyromancy is peerless.

My flames and my aim stayed true and hit the floor a dozen meters away, exploding in a conflagration of sound and fire. The sheer liberation of the fire contained in my pyromancy roared, emitting a howl of fire. Even from my position and prepared for the shock, I could feel the wave of burning air striking me with enough strength to make me take a step back.

Looking in Tiffania's direction, I saw she was safe, the man had somehow used his spell to protect both of them from the brunt of the blasting fire. They were far enough away from the explosion that they weren't touched by the living magma.

I rushed to them. The man seemed captivated by the after-effect of my spell. He didn't realize I was close enough to burn him alive, most probably his ears were still ringing from the blast of sound my pyromancy caused. Luckily for the miscreant, it wasn't my aim anymore. It was likely that I was currently indebted to the girl, and the girl cared enough about him to gamble her life away. I would not kill him right away.

I grabbed both of them by the scruff of their neck, and I took them away from the magma. The pyromancer seemed to not want to fight, and he protected this girl. I had questions to ask to the girl about why she summoned me, she seemed to be a naive and sheltered child. I cannot give another reason for why this idiot went in the middle of a fight, especially one between two powerful pyromancers. It shouldn't be too dangerous to try to save them.

Both of them were surprised when I grabbed them, and struggled against it, but I would have none of that. Even if my spell had been already cast and avoided, the magma was still liquid and hot. It could still melt bones and it was currently melting the ground away, without mentioning the toxic steam. Once we were a dozen meters away from the pond of magma, I released them.

I breathed out. Toxic gases were always things to avoid. My sere throat being a perfect example. I sat on the floor, not wanting to move again. I didn't want to fight anymore. The idiocy of the girl made me lose the adrenaline I had beforehand, and thus, was making me aware of how exhausted I was and how sore my muscles were. My legs were still shaking from the exertion that I had put them through. I also remembered the vacuum in my empty stomach. My shoulders were hurt too. I groaned soundlessly.

The bald man and the girl seemed to be both surprised by my sudden lack of aggressiveness. They talked to each other while the pyromancer took carefully some distance between them and I, but I stayed still, tired, but still ready to cast something lethal.

I heard them talk, the language they used was foreign to me, which was unusual since I knew more languages than I have teeth. The girl, most likely Tiffania Westwood, my summoner, seemed to have a student and teacher relationship with the pyromancer. It wasn't necessary to know a language to read a situation.

Nonetheless, once again, it was strange. Weren't the human pyromancers descended from the inhabitants of the Great Swamp? Why did this man speak a language so different from the one they used? I couldn't even figure out any kind of resemblance.

Then, in the background, other sounds neared our location. It wasn't surprising, since I was summoned, less than three minutes had passed, and I might have caused some noise. I just listened. A young girl, with a strange pink hair colour, ran towards them screaming ''Saito! Saito! Saito!''. Was it a name, or a call for help? She was dressed in the same uniform as this Tiffania girl.

The boy who assaulted me answered to that child. She then threw herself at him, hugging him. The boy must have fallen from the tower, above my summoning point, and the girl must have been there too. Watching the two was quite weird, each spoke his own language and answered to the other fluently.

Since I will not kill the boy, I will have to make him beg for forgiveness for the pain and the fright he caused me.

The two of them came to the pyromancer, who kept an eye on me. The boy seemed to be quite cautious around me, which was understandable. But then, he held his nose, and said something, most likely about my smell. It grated me. I was brought out of the most corrupted and decayed excuse of a swamp I ever had the privilege to bathe in, what did he expect me to smell of? Fina's latest perfume? For no reason, an image of the over-glorified whore fighting demons in Blighttown appeared in my mind, it was quite hilarious.

Both of the girls were confused, the pink-haired one and my summoner, then, instantly they both held their noses too. The little girl pointed her wand catalyst in my direction. It seems she deduced I liked the smell of blood and mud. I reacted.

I would not let a child threaten me with her catalyst, especially one rude enough to think I had the habit of wandering in a place as disgusting as Blighttown. I snapped my fingers. It wasn't so much a pyromancy as an exercise to practise pyromancy, but I generated a small flame from my hand which instantly flew after the pink-haired girl's fingers, slightly burning her. She dropped her catalyst.

The boy, the other rude one, angry at me to have hurt the child, put himself in front of her protecting her from me. Surprisingly enough, the pyromancer I fought tried to calm them down. The pink-haired child was more astonished than angry at my preemptive strike.

The pyromancer ignored them and went to my side, looked at me and pointed a finger towards himself. He then made a short sentence, where I clearly understood the words 'Jean Colbert'. It must be his name. He considered me a sentient being, intelligent enough to understand him but not knowledgeable enough to know his language. Good. If I was too spent to either move or kill, the next option would be to negotiate.

Luckily, I had consumed my fury against the pyromancer with the chaos fireball, I would not have much trouble restraining myself from killing him in order to communicate.

The problem was that I couldn't talk. My throat was too scorched to produce any coherent sound. I would have to communicate with gestures, it would be tricky, especially with only moonlight to light this courtyard. At least, it would have been just tricky had the clouds stayed where they should have been, not blocking the already weak moonlight. I managed to not groan.

First, slowly, I produced a little fire on my left hand to be used as source of light. It would be needed if I wanted them to understand my gestures. My eyes could see easily through the dark but I could not expect the same from average humans.

Once I produced the fire, and let it stay in my hand long enough for them to understand I wasn't using it to attack, I used my other hand to try to communicate. Putting two fingers to my throat, I then shook my head, hoping it was understandable enough for them to understand that I couldn't talk. I pointed my finger to this Jean Colbert, then I tilted my head to the right, shrugging, with luck he would realize I could not understand his language.

The four of them, the pyromancer I fought, the boy with the cape, the girl who summoned me and the smaller girl talked among themselves, most likely about what I just communicated. They took time. I was quite annoyed to be left out of the conversation, but it was to be expected, I didn't know their language.

Instead, I studied my summoner.

Tiffania Westwood had the appearance of a sixteen year old human girl, but it might well be in appearance only. I am the perfect example of a being older than what my body could lead to believe.

Letting my fire burn brighter, I was able to make out most of her features. Long blond hair and blue eyes. She was a classic beauty, if only for her appearance. She looked like the kind of young woman pious knights were madly in love with. She would have made many of these young warriors swoon.

She would have had the common appearance of a beautiful girl, had it not been for the presence of two unusual features.

First were her ears. Their shape was curious enough for me to wonder whether it came from her lineage or from a mutation, like my own. Long, pointed ears, big and long enough to reach the back of her head, making it likely that each could reach its counterpart. It was aesthetically exotic. I wondered if there was a point about having ears this long, but I reminded myself evolution followed its own laws. I eyed her other assets.

It was her breasts. The sheer size of her breasts was monumental. Oh, I have seen bosoms bigger than her. Gwynevere, the Princess of Sunlight, or even Fina could claim such epic voluptuousness, but they were several-meter-tall goddesses. It was the proportion of the part compared to the rest of the body that made her bosom so impressive. Surprisingly, I found myself caring about her health. I ended my observation there.

Watching them talk, I waited. I couldn't do much else. If I knew their writing, it would have been easier to communicate, but I could not expect them to have the same alphabet as I.

Then, I remembered, even though I didn't know their alphabet, I knew the shape of the one important message to communicate.

Using my left hand, the one holding the fire, I took the already conjured fire, and shaped it to my will, using my memories as reference. Slowly, letter by letter, the message that appeared to me in the tunnel of Blighttown was written again, this time, not in a purple light, but in letters of fire. It was difficult to maintain, between sustaining the fire, and making it keep the same shape, it was nonetheless a good mental exercise.

Their little group looked at the message, having caught their attention, I then pointed my finger to my summoner, the blonde girl, Tiffania Westwood. I couldn't make myself more clear than that. I wasn't acquainted with the term 'familiar', but I remembered human fokloric legends describing sorceresses's pets as such. I was most likely summoned to assist someone, to be named a ghost or a familiar didn't change much.

Colbert smiled, excited, and then went closer to the conjured message, most probably curious about how I maintained it. I only linked the letters together with a thin flame. He then looked at me, made a complicated move with his finger to show his staff, his head, and then my head, probably to ask me if he could cast a spell on me, and I nodded. It was fascinating how from burning each other, we started to be friendly.

I remembered hot-blooded young knights calling this 'The Flames of Friendship' or 'The Fire of Youth', or other childish nonsense I couldn't help but chuckle at.

Colbert incanted a spell, and touched delicately my head with his staff.

''Do you now understand me when I talk?'' He said, kindly.

My eyes widened in shock. Did he just used a spell to translate his language to be understandable to someone who never heard of it? I was astounded. I tried to work on this branch of spells for months and I didn't even know where to start, even when I tried to just make one language translate.

How had he done it? Had he put knowledge of his language into my head? Had he just used a spell to modify sound to be understood by the receiver? Or even better, arranged his understanding of his language to my own linguistical ideas, making me understand anything he can formulate as long as he used the matching word?

In fact, was it a pyromancy or a sorcery? The two ways might have been possible. I am personally both pyromancer and sorceress, it could also be possible for this Colbert. If this translation was a pyromancy, it was somehow translating our intentions into words. Or it could be a sorcery, logically translating our linguistical ideas into concepts understandable by the other. The two arts were fundamentally different from each other, mainly by the fact of pyromancy being instinctual, and sorcery intellectual.

I nodded to the genius who cast this spell. Jean Colbert continued, enthusiastic.

''Were you trying to tell us that you accept Miss Westwood's summoning as a familiar?'' I nodded again. He turned to the one I identified earlier as my summoner. ''You may complete the summoning then, Miss Westwood.'' I was right on a point, this Colbert was a teacher figure.

The blonde girl was a little surprised to be suddenly put in the spotlight. She came closer to me, she looked a little embarassed. She then told me, in a shy and hesitant voice.

''My name is Tiffania Westwood, I thank you for accepting my summoning.'' She looked around, somewhat embarassed for some reason. She breathed deeply. Then, in the next instant, at a speed I didn't expect, her hands caught my head and drew me closer to her own, her lips meeting mine.

She kissed me.

I wasn't expecting this. Thanks to my anatomy my head was still higher than their own, even if I were sitting. Colbert, who must have been one eighty centimeters tall came close, but the blonde-haired girl was around one sixty five. To be kissed by this girl was the last thing I had expected. Thinking about it, this statement might well stand true for my aggressor.

The suddenness of her action might as well be a way to cope her embarrassment over acting so boldly to a woman as magnificient as I. Still, it was odd. She would have waited other circumstances, preferably ones where I was cleaned, before seducing me, had it been her aim. Was it a local custom? Obviously, I couldn't ask right away. I felt myself shivering under her touch.

I felt the humidity of her lips making contact with my dry ones. I felt the living fluid in her hands, which she used to catch the back of my head. I was also feeling her soft, and very voluptuous breasts being pressed into my more modest ones. This contact made me aware of how healthy her blood, her body was. It wasn't so much her erotic appeal - I was certain she was unaware of what the word meant - than her health that thrilled me.

The blood running in her veins wasn't one infected with diseases, it was neither corrupt nor tainted. I felt dirty. It made me jealous, so extremely envious, which made me feel dirtier. More than ever before, I felt my need to find water to drink. My throat was as dry as a desert, and as mercilessly painful.

When she released me, I felt something burning inside of me. It was an eldritch feeling, one I never felt before. The area of skin over my heart burned, as if someone was writing on it with boiling ink. Frustrated, I scrubbed off the dry fluids covering this area, to look at what happened.

The time I took off the layer of filth, I felt the phenomenon had stopped, concluded.

Instead, there were strange runic symbols written on my chest, shining brightly in a purple light. I didn't feel any kind of curse or other magical impediments coming from this thing. I was annoyed that I had been branded, but I was still too tired to put up a fight, and it wasn't as though it mattered too much for my goal.

It must be the reason why my summoner kissed me, she wanted to brand her heraldry on me. It must have been related to the summoning spell she used. I didn't know if I should lash out right away. It might also be an anchor to this world. I would have to wait to have more information. The teacher was looking, curious at what had been branded on my flesh. It seemed it wasn't a generic design that was inscribed, otherwise, he wouldn't have wasted too much time on it.

I was about to make a motion to ask them to explain what happened, when my bold summoner fell on her knees, breathing erratically. Colbert came closer to examine her.

''Don't worry, Miss Westwood is just tired. The Summoning Ritual is quite exhausting and she isn't quite used to casting several spells in a row. She will feel better once rested.'' He said, trying to soothe me. It wasn't necessary, if she was the one who summoned me, it was understandable. She hadn't yet reached her eighteenth winter and she had cast a spell bending space and maybe even time to bring me here. Exhaustion would be a euphemism. He continued.

''Saito, could you see that Miss Westwood is taken back to her room please? I have to watch over her familiar while she is asleep.'' The young man, Saito, nodded and with the help of the pink-haired child, put her on his back. He had a lewd smile on his face when he stood up.

The little girl then lashed out at the boy, calling him a perverted dog and whatnot. Strangely, I found myself concerned for the now sleeping girl. She was the one who took me out of Blighttown, It must have been unease because I wasn't able to properly thank her for her rescue.

I was now alone with the pyromancer, who looked at the heraldry Tiffania Westwood had branded on my skin.

''These are very interesting runes, I would love to learn more about it.'' The apparently scolarly man told me, smiling while his eyes feasted on my now magically branded flesh. His own curiosity showed that either he didn't know much about the subject, dubious since it was his student who summoned me, or that the brand's design was unusual.

The way he looked at me was unnerving. I have looked at laboratory rats in the same way he looked at me. I thought about making something burn to let him feel my displeasure, but then, I had a better idea. The social activity that happened around me was getting to my head, and I wanted to be mischievous. I tried something I haven't done for a long time.

I blushed like an embarrassed maiden.

Startled, I made a small step backward with my legs, taking a protective stance hugging myself with my arms, covering my breasts, retreating from his piercing and gluttonous eyes. Fear and embarrassment from this shameless and lustful man carved itself upon my face. I tried to scream to complete the scene, but the accumulated soot in my throat distorted and deadened the sound.

Perturbed by my reaction, Colbert was first confused and then he understood. He blushed like an embarassed virgin who saw a naked woman for the first time. He panicked. ''I'm sorry! I was so caught up in my academic interest in those runes that I discarded the most basic decency.'' He recomposed himself before continuing. ''Please, excuse this old fool for his scholastic interest.''

Slowly, I let go my defensive stance, looking at the pyromancer with suspicion. Doing my best to not let him see my mirth. Colbert sighed in relief. It would have been entertaining to see the man explaining himself about why he might have lusted after his student's summon while she was under his care. I still had to find a way to punish him satisfyingly, it would be too troublesome to kill him now. He tried to change the subject.

''Miss Familiar, would you follow me please? The wind is quite cold out there and I'm sure you wouldn't mind taking a rest after our sparring.'' He asked me.

I thought about it a moment before nodding, following him to one of the bigger buildings around. There wasn't enough light to have a precise idea of the castle's structure, but it appeared to be a huge tower made of stone.

Luckily, the door was wide enough for me, if a little uncomfortable.

- Scene Break -

I had been prepared to deal with sentinels frightened by my appearance, but it seemed a thief had stolen something and every guard had been deployed to capture him, for I saw none of them. The security was either very weak or badly trained, maybe both. It was sad for the local lord.

We were in a circular great hall, with several wooden tables in the middle, each with a dozen chairs on either side. There was a short girl with a staff, another student, seated on one of the chairs, reading peacefully. On the side, there were stairs, leading above the hall. The hall was luminous, even in the middle of the night, thanks to the torches on the walls, which artificially brightened with some magelight sorcery. The tower's layout made me think of Carim, cheering up the stern martial architecture with bright colours. Apart from the door, which was too small for my tastes, it looked good enough.

''Miss Tabitha is reading here? I will ask her if she could give us a hand. Miss Familiar, do you need anything else?'' Using my hands, I tried to imitate the shape of a glass of water, and mimed the movement to drink it. The illusion alone would have made me drool at the thought of the precious liquid had I still had any saliva in my mouth.

''Oh, you are thirsty. I will make a detour to the kitchen to find you a carafe. Please wait here.'' Even the thought of it made me shiver in excitation, I could not even remember the last time I had seen a non-poisonous liquid. I would bless the man once I had my throat cleansed.

The teacher left. First, he went to see this Tabitha, and then, to the kitchens, probably to find what he had promised me. While I watched him move in the hall, his student, to whom he had just spoken, came to me.

The girl was a little shorter than the rude one whose fingers I had burned. She wore, like my summoner, the uniform of a student. She was holding an open book in her right hand, and had a wooden staff catalyst with a huddled up head in her left hand. She had short light blue hair and although her face was inexpressive, her eyes were watching me, hidden behind a pair of glasses. She looked like a silent little mouse.

Once she came within two meters of me, she closed her book. I felt her stare on me, the slight twitch of her nose told me she had smelt the blight, she paused. I felt something from her, a figment of my imagination was telling me she would jump on me and slit my throat, or pin me on a wall with a spell. It was amusing how similar it felt to killing intent.

…..because it was actual killing intent.

I was once again surprised. Since when little girls could produce killing intent? It was exactly the kind of thing I was trying to avoid by being courteous. She was too far away for me to be sure I would hit her with combustion, and yet, too close for me conjure a fireball. I could draw the Furysword but it would take time, it was on my back. I wasn't sure how to deal with a young mage assassin at this precise moment.

I could have answered with the same kind of intent if I wanted to. Killing intent being an instinctive form of sorcery. Projecting your will on reality through imagination is the basis of any spell. Killing intent is thus only a variant on the principle, casting an illusion to someone and making the target understand the will of the caster through empathy.

I was about to start playing this game when it disappeared. The expresionless girl's killing intent lasted no more than two seconds.

''Professor Colbert asked me to clean you.'' The assassin girl said, her frown had disappeared, her voice was low and barely audible. She murmured an incantation.

I was still cautious, but I let her cast her spell, ready to respond. First, Jean Colbert, a pyromancer strong enough to hold his own against me, followed by his student, one little girl who had killed enough to produce murderous intent on a whim. I was certain she wasn't serious about killing me, but she had seriously given it a thought. I reeked so much of blood it warranted the caution of every nearby killer.

I think her spell had something to do with it. Once she had finished her incantation, I felt it had an effect on my skin, more precisely, on the fluids which had dried on my skin. It felt as though someone had erased the filth from my body with a wet thumb, vigorously removing the dried liquids that had splashed over me during my travel through the swamp. These things that felt like thumbs took the shape of orbs. Each of the stains were liquefied before being absorbed into several orbs of the already compacted filth, which then traveled across my body to clean me thoroughly. It felt like a massage. It even mucked out parts of my abdomen I couldn't reach myself. I couldn't explain it, but it felt like she was tearing off rags that I didn't know I was wearing. I felt glorious. The whole process took a minute. I felt less and less dirty, and more and more relaxed. I was amazed at the speed the sorcery cleaned me.

From the mixture of digusting liquids I had been through, my body colour returned to the albinos white of the demonic albinos spider I was bound to. Now free from the horrors' muddy blood, I could once again see the colour of my skin. I was elated at the sight of my milky white complexion. I turned around to look at my abdomen, to find that it too had been completely cleansed of its dirt and had recovered its nacreous colour.

I wasn't albinos by birth, the naturally white colour of my body coming from my mutation. My fusion with the demon spider had been deeper than just being bound to it, my whole body had been altered. My hair lost its colour and became an immaculate white, while my skin became alabaster. It wouldn't surprise me if my eye colour had changed too, most likely red, not that I had seen a mirror since my mutation to confirm it. My innards had also been transformed. It's difficult to be accurate, but it had felt like my bones were heavier, denser, more solid. My muscles became stronger too. It was the only thing which explained that I could have so much endurance, even under the circumstances. After my ordeal, I had thought it would take me weeks before I could even think of walking properly.

While gaining six more legs had been both astonishing and awkward, I found my now pearly skin aesthetically gorgeous. Being mutated with a spider was an evolution, with benefits and drawbacks. The fact that my body became bigger and heavier, but also a great deal stronger in order to sustain its own weight for example. A smile grew on my face as I looked at my body. I felt so much cleaner and lighter. I was feeling elated.

Whatever spell the young girl had used, it had also worked on my hair, it took care of potential lice, I dreaded the thought of what kind of lice could have survived after my escape from Izalith. If the temperature and the toxic gases from the lava hadn't killed them already.

All the condensed filthiness that had been taken from me was assembled in a single ball, floating in the air by the magic the quiet girl used. The orb, which had a dark brown colour, with tints of red, took more space than a grown man's torso. It became obvious why I felt lighter now. Looking at this concentrated mass of disease and poison, I couldn't help but wonder what would happen if we threw it in a city's main water source...

It would easily start a plague.

The short girl in front of me made no obvious move, but I saw that her eyebrows rose somewhat. She must have been subjugated by my newly-cleansed beauty. Opening her book again, she left the hall with this floating orb of sickness, hopefully to bury it somewhere. I would have to thank her later and ask her for her spell. One which cleansed and gave a massage at the same time. I wouldn't mind learning it...

Suppressing my desire to daydream, I thought about my current situation.

I lacked information. I had no idea where I was, I was not even sure what happened. The knight of thorns had told me that summoned ones aren't summoned in flesh. I was not supposed to be able to see the actual colour of my skin. I was supposed to be a glowing blue, or red colour, a reflection of myself, not my actual self. I didn't even know if it would have been possible for me to smell anything much less be cleaned. I should have been summoned as a being not so different from a ghost.

Then, there were the runes that the girl had branded on my skin. The more I thought about it, the less I believed it was the summoning process that the knight covered in spikes was familiar with. Were the runes some kind of anchor for my spectral body to be linked to this world, my summoner's crest, or some kind of passive spell to make me more subservient towards her?

Thinking about it, I would have to ask Colbert some questions about how flexible he had been with me. He appeared to have no animosity from the fact that I almost killed him - and still wanted to kill him if possible - the girl, and his apprentice. Unusual for a teacher. I was sure it wasn't his first life-and-death situation either. It would also explain his strength, he most likely had martial experiences in his past.

Perhaps he had been prepared for the situation. His student could have summoned something wild and strong and it would have been his job to beat it to submission for his student to brand it, to assure its loyalty and obedience. It would explain the branding, the runes, the instinctive knowledge that the girl had summoned me, and even the location of my summoning. The courtyard was big enough to hold any kind of creature a human could hope to have the power to summon. It was exactly the way the situation occurred.

As I was thinking about the pyromancer, he came back, bringing what looked like a huge carafe.

I was tired of being patient. I felt I could fly like a butterfly with the weight of Blighttown's diseases off my shoulders, and so, I walked excitedly towards him. He blinked as he watched me walking towards him, gaping before my magnificience. I took the carafe from between his hands and brought it to my face.

The carafe was filled with a liquid I hadn't seen for a very long time. Bewitched and yet skeptical, I tried to confirm its authenticity. It was transparent, I could see the container's bottom through the liquid. It didn't smell of any chemical or organic addition. It was clean. I felt my hopes rise through my chest. I soaked my little finger in the liquid, to examine the density and the texture.

It was water. Clean, unstained water.

Without any hesitation, I brought the carafe to my lips, drinking it in one gulp. I felt the cold water traveling down my throat, cleaning it, healing it. I felt the water mixing with the soot, becoming denser. Because I was grateful to the one who brought me this Gwyn-be-blessed water, I moved to one of the walls of the hall, before continuing my rejuvenation.

I spat out, coughing and splashing the floor and the wall. I drank again. Taking my time this time, savouring the liquid, pleasantly gurgling it, appreciating the healing taking place in my throat. I spat again.

Colbert was going to say something, but he just gawked, astonished at the water that I splashed on the floor. The liquid had turned into pitch black mud. I was curious how I would explain the phenomenon. I would think about it later, maybe.

The wanderer, the Chosen Undead, who had come to my domain had never encountered this kind of problem. When he needed to be healed, he only had to touch a bonfire linked with a firekeeper. Mortal wounds were taken care of in seconds before he could return to fighting monsters several times bigger than him.

For firekeepers, the ones making this kind of miraculous healing accessible to him and to the other undead, it was different. It was common for firekeepers to have their legs and tongues cut off, before being locked in cages, or buried, near their bonfires. The fires provided enough energy to the keeper to prevent his body from dying, but they would not heal superfluous damage.

I had spent so much time in my domain, a cave with direct access to the biggest magmatic cavern I knew, constantly inhaling lava soot, that the inside of my throat had changed colour. An illusionary wall could only protect you so far.

Thankfully, I was not an ordinary firekeeper, nor an ordinary being. My wounds naturally healed quickly, and my binding with the spider only enhanced this ability. Once I had cleansed my throat of the black soot, I would recover and speak again. My natural regeneration was the only reason that my skin had been preserved this well for so long.

Drinking, gargling, spitting. I repeated the operation a few times. The wall I was spitting on had changed colour too, darkening. Once I could feel that the water I spat was not mixed with magmatic soot anymore, I attempted to make sounds. First wordlessly. I felt lonely, singing solitary scales in the middle of a hall, but I didn't want to miss my first words here when I could actually remember what they would be.

After a short moment of trying to make noise, I chose them. I chose what my first words would be in this world.

''Next time, I will know better than to stay in a magmatic cave.'' It was the most recent gem of wisdom I had achieved in my long life. They were fitting words for my circumstances.

My voice was hoarse and my words stumbled off my tongue, so low that I hardly heard anything. It was to be expected in my condition, I hadn't spoken for such a long time.

Colbert was observing me with interest, he would have heard me beforehand had he worn the wanderer's ring, but it would have been highly unlikely. This ring had been crafted by the Izalith covenant during our early experiments, in order to create a magical artefact of protection for our little brother, protection from the lava his own body produced. The little wonder granted its wearer the ability to hear what it is told. While it might seem quite useless compared to other powerful magical artefacts, it was extremely useful when trying to communicate with a mute, or when you are deaf yourself. Depending of the exact effect of the ring, it might even allow someone to hear someone talk on the other side of a wall.

That we met, while he was wearing this ring in my presence was nothing short of miraculous. If I was more paranoid, I would have believed a higher power planned out our meeting. The thought never left my mind though.

But I wasn't in front of the wanderer, I was in front of a teacher in a different dimension. Should I first punish him to have used pyromancy against me or thank him for the carafe? Thanking him first would be best. I would be able to speak to him only because of the water he brought me, and he would be less inclined to accept my gratitude if I harmed him beforehand.

''I give you my heartfelt thanks, Jean Colbert, for the help that you have granted me in my hour of need. I am indebted to you.'' I told him, slowly telling each word, working on my enunciation to be sure he understood the depth of my gratitude.

Joy filled my heart. I recognized the foreign voice as my own. I could speak! I could finally have the pleasure of hearing spirited conversation once again. It had been so long since I last heard my voice's sonorities that I had almost forgotten its low but silvery qualities. Thankfully, I caught on quickly, otherwise I would have seduced myself. Arrogance and egotism are important in one's life, but narcissism is the first step towards pettiness and narrow-mindedness.

I berated myself over my sensitivity towards my own sensuality. Amusingly enough, it seemed both Colbert and I had trouble dealing with my magnificence.

''I have done nothing so grand as to make you indebted to me.'' He humbly said. But then his eyes sparkled with curiosity. ''Although, I would have to admit I am quite curious about your knowledge of fire magic.''

Well, the man was quite singleminded. Still, I was cautious about the way he named pyromancy. I decided I would indulge the man. I just told him I was indebted to him and I was staying with him until Tiffania Westwood woke up. If he wanted to squeeze knowledge out of me as much as possible before his opportunity ended I would allow him to do so. It wasn't as though I'd been aware of this possibility before accepting the summoning.

And anyway, the sun would come up long before I shared even a shred of my knowledge.

''During our exchange, I merely used fireballs, combustions, a whip and an upgraded variant of the fireball. As a practitioner of the art, haven't you recognized those pyromancies yourself?'' My healing factor was truly amazing, I was already beginning to speak fluently. Even the pyromancer should have found it strange, had he cared more about my well-being and less about my expertise on pyromancy.

''So you call your mastery over fire 'Pyromancy'…. Technically, it wouldn't be wrong to call fire magic pyromancy, but why did you think that I was using the same technique as you?'' The mage listened carefully while pondering.

''Because pyromancy is the only way to kindle fire within the self.'' I said matter-of-factly. Channeling your will from your soul into your pyromancy flame in order to kindle its flame before unleashing it on the world would have been a more precise explanation, but it was a little too long. ''Since you are wielding flames for battle too, I deduce you are a disciple of Quelana, who shared her knowledge of the art with the inhabitants of the Great Swamp.''

Colbert waited a few seconds before answering, it had been a most irritating moment. ''No I'm afraid I've never heard that name before. I began my training in magic at nine, became a triangle class mage during my last year at Tristain's Academy of Magic, to finally reach square class level during my apprenticeship under my late mentor, Martin l'Auvergnois.''

….

…...

There were so many things wrong in his explanation that I didn't know where to start. For a short moment, I thought maybe I was facing a charlatan, but then accusing him of being a charlatan would also mean I had been fooled by one up until now, I would insult both of us because of my disbelief. It would be plain rude, and perhaps unwarranted.

Although some parts of his statements might not be wrong, only nonsense seemed to spout out of his mouth. I reminded myself that we weren't speaking the same language. The sounds his mouth produced were different from those that I heard, maybe they were just errors in translation. Hopefully.

''Sir Colbert, could you explain to me, in length, how you practice magic in these lands? I fear there may be a mishap in your translation sorcery.'' I asked, most serenely in appearance. The mage nodded, even if he looked confused about why I asked this question.

''Magic is an innate skill mages have, which allows them to manipulate the world through a focus, generally a wand or a staff. Each mage has an affinity making it easier for him to learn spells from his element, may it be earth, fire, water or wind.'' He explained with natural.

Maybe I had been summoned to some kind of hallucination coming straight out of Seath's mind. The teacher continued, without caring about the damage he was dealing to my sanity.

''The power of a mage is defined by his willpower and the number of effects he can stack in one spell. A mage who can only cast a single-action spell is called a dot mage, to be able to stack two effects is to be a line mage, three is a triangle one, and then square mages, able to stack as far as four effects in one spell.'' Colbert ended his explanation here. ''Is there any difference from what you are used to?'' He looked at me, curiosity shining inside his eyes.

Wrong. How much I wanted to tell him that. This place is wrong. I was now sure of it. It didn't give me any way to answer. Telling him bluntly his theory on magic was a joke would not be helpful. I'm used to this kind of situation. I have worked with Seath the Scaleless, I know what happens when you tell a genius his theories are maybe somewhat lacking. I had to find a way to gain time to think, a way to make him think about something else. Cornered, without any other alternative, I used the most stupid and childish trick that went through my mind to divert his attention.

I let my stomach rumble loudly. It wasn't difficult, I was still extremely hungry. I smiled bashfully as the sound resonated through the silent hall, sincerely embarrassed.

''While discussing the supernatural arts is most enjoyable, I fear I can't recall the last time I had a decent meal.'' It was the truth. ''Could you bring me something from the kitchens while I collect my thoughts please? We can always talk later, once we are seated.''

''Of course. I'm sorry. I should have realized. You were quite…. dishevelled, after your summoning, I should have expected that. Wait here please, I'll come back in a second, Miss.'' The man was hurrying towards the kitchens, but before I forgot to, I told him something important. A last confirmation, mingled with politeness.

''My name is Quelaan, Quelaan of Izalith.'' I told him.

I would eat under his roof, I could at least show him some respect in this regard as a host.

He made an instant about-turn to look at me, smiling. ''Pleased to meet you, Miss Quelaan. My name is Jean Colbert, teacher at Tristain's Academy of Magic.'' I smiled too, the wanderer wasn't one to speak much, so I hadn't had the pleasure of hearing my name being pronounced by someone else for a very long time. The sonorities felt foreign to my ears, but I was pleased to hear it anyway.

Colbert went back into the kitchens, less hurried than before, while I smiled crispily looking at his back. I went to a table. Moving a few chairs, I sat on the floor. After eyeing the door, I tried to digest the information I had received.

It felt nice to hear my own name being pronounced by someone else. Yet, dread crept into my heart. The man seemed to be of a great intellectual curiosity. For a scholar like him to not know my homeland, it invited fear and doubts into my heart. How it is possible for a scholar using magic in a way that looked like pyromancy to not know the meaning of the word Izalith?

This place was making me feel extremely uneasy. Had the Fire faded so much that even the meaning of the name of Izalith had been taken into the Dark? Then it wouldn't be long before the Serpents's ambitions came true. If the man even knew half the meaning of the word, he wouldn't have dared to call me by my name, even freely given. He might even have knelt.

This little stunt of giving him my real name made me remember how devious I could be. I would have liked to be treated with proper decorum, but it would have prevented the man from saying my name, which I would have liked to be pronounced. But as Colbert had done so, he didn't know me, which led to a frightening hypothesis explaining my current situation, even if I did hear him pronouncing my name. In fact, I would have prefered to have both proper deference and yet a closeness you could expect from someone you had tried to kill beforehand. But then, I would have been angry to have met a human cheeky enough to act this way despite knowing who I am. The only way to prevent that would I have been if he were a being great enough to make me regret attacking him in the first place, which would have crushed any desire I had to act so friendly. Quite paradoxal. I had trapped myself the moment I had tried to play smart. The concept was droll.

It had been stupid to think so much of something so simple. Had I given him my name out of respect, I wouldn't have to now unknot my own feelings.

What was I thinking of already? Ah yes, information. I chuckled. I have yet to eat and I was already digesting.

- Scene Break -

I see.

I should have known when the Knight of Thorns told me the message would take someone elsewhere, that in fact this person could even be sent to a different dimension. I expected to be sent somewhere I was not aware of, but I did not expect his explanation to be so horribly right.

This whole system of elemental magic was confusing me, even after a long conversation about it. Stacking several elements in one spell to increase its power? Humans with natural affinities towards earth, water, wind, or fire allowing them to manipulate these elements? Preposterous. There were too many things I couldn't understand, it was fundamentally against everything I had learned from magic for me to be able to accept it in one night. The only point I could perhaps tolerate was about the willpower of the caster fueling the spell, and even then the term was hazy.

Colbert knew neither the concept of sorcery nor pyromancy. I would have tried to talk about miracles, but if the teacher didn't even know sorcery, it would have been improbable for him to know something about miracles. The fact that the man acted like a child who just found out the existence of a whole new world each time I mentioned something linked to either supernatural arts didn't convince me to continue. The sheer enthusiasm in his whole being was grating me.

I shouldn't find it so strange. The man was acquainted with a shaky magic system and a dubious definition of the origin of energy. My own supernatural craft was a lot more mature. The concept of pyromancy is to nurture a flame with emotions drawn from the soul while sorcery is a way to influence reality through sheer imagination and power of will. Miracles are trickier to explain but in brief, they are prayers powered through beliefs.

I would have to get to know more about their craft. The way Colbert talked about it, it seemed as though the local spellcasters use willpower to explain everything, when he couldn't explain it precisely even with his translation spell. For all I knew, they could use half a dozen different ways to manipulate nature and they wouldn't know the difference.

Fortunately, my attention was mainly focused on the food the teacher brought to me. He came back from the kitchens with a basket and some wine. Nothing grand, fruits and stale bread, nonetheless, it had been one the most fulfilling meals I had ever had. It would fill me for a while. Had I the misfortune of being forced to focus on the conversation in order to forget my hunger, I would have set fire to the whole hall from sheer frustration right away. The worst was that I didn't have any reason to desire his death now since he explained he wasn't Quelana's disciple.

The assassin girl, Tabitha, came back and showed me she could manipulate both wind and water, even blending the two together to form ice projectiles. Ludicrous, but it was happening in front of my eyes. Her shower-and-massage spell was in fact a water-oriented line spell.

After yawning ever so slightly, she went off to bed. I wondered why she was in this hall in the first place. Intelligence gathering I presumed. Thinking about it, I could also question how this emotionally stunted child became Colbert's student.

The mage coughed, drawing my attention.

''Thank you Miss Quelaan, I didn't expect to learn so much in one night.'' He took a sip of his wine. ''To know so much about the topic, are you perhaps a scholar?'' He seemed very happy to talk to one who could be a kindred spirit.

I nodded. ''I would have to thank you too then. I too didn't expect to learn this much tonight.'' I thought about my answer for a second. ''As for me being a scholar, while the statement is correct, it is not the truth.''

''Does it mean you are a scholar without being one, or that you are just scholastic?'' Colbert didn't mind wordplay it seemed, which reminded me how much of a national sport it was back in Vinheim.

''Oh, neither. I just had more opportunities to seek knowledge than most.'' Being as old as I am, it has happened several times that I have spent lifetimes somewhere, only to return elsewhere and realize that an empire had been split up into kingdoms. If I wanted to know how it happened, I had no choice but to seek old records and books. It just happened that I ended up with more knowledge than any human could obtain.

I produced a flame in my hand. ''You will find it hard to imagine, but back in my land, pyromancy is an art only my family wielded.''

''What?'' Said Colbert most intelligently. For once, it wasn't me who was surprised, it pleased me. I now began my history class.

''My family assisted Lord Gwyn during a crusade a long time ago. Impressed by our power, he invited us inside his city of Anor Londo as esteemed guests.'' If I could avoid his questions by not mentioning the Disparity, Lords Souls, and everlasting dragons, all the better for me.

''As our stay in Anor Londo continued, I decided to advance my studies. Before I knew it, I was known as an erudite person.'' Most of the gods were either busy learning how to be worshipped by the humans now that the dragons were gone or looking down on the covenant. For them, the Izalith covenant was nothing more than a witch and her daughters of dubious origin, our brother wasn't born yet, rescued by the good will of the great Lord Gwyn. At that time, even Seath was more civil than them.

Nostalgy filled my heart. It was a long-lost era, one where Seath still cared about the health of his experiments, which was the only reason why I had learned sorcery from him. He became more and more irascible as time flew. The Priscilla scandal made him snap thereafter.

Seeing that I was remembering the past, Colbert continued. ''I see. I would have another question if it doesn't bother you, miss Quelaan.'' I nodded.

''When you attacked me back in the courtyard, was it because you left your family on bad terms?'' He said. I blinked owlishly, stunned by how he came to this conclusion.

''Why would you think such a thing?''

''Well… It is the only reason I could explain why you would try to harm a relative with such fury. You were quite frightening back there.'' He admitted.

His reasoning was so alien to me I had to pause a few seconds to understand it. Once I did, I couldn't help myself, I laughed so much I had to hold my stomach.

''You thought I thought you were a descendant of this Quelana I mentioned and that I was trying to kill you because I had a grudge against her. Brilliant! I did not expect this one.'' I told him, once my laugh ended. To him, magic was innate. He misunderstood and naturally thought pyromancy was an innate skill too, not that I would correct him. I do not want to be pushed to create an eventual army of pyromancers because my tongue was too loose.

I looked at him, sitting there, embarassed, like he was a silly child, which wasn't too far off compared to me. ''Quelana is my younger sister, it would surprise me if you were her child, sir Colbert.''

He perked at this, before laughing nervously. ''Yes, it would surprise me too to have an aunt as young as you are.'' Another misunderstanding. ''Excuse me Miss Quelaan, I shouldn't have made such assumptions.''

I shook my head. ''No. You weren't wrong. We did part ways on bad terms.'' A euphemism. I wanted to groan. I shouldn't have answered. I didn't even need to look at the man to see he was interested.

I had already given a hint, I might as well tell the whole story.

''Us, the Izalith covenant, spent a long time under Lord Gwyn's hospitality, until one day, he asked for our assistance. A huge disaster of supernatural origin appeared, to which he sought our expertise in pyromancy. After several months of work, we created a ritual powerful enough to resolve the situation. Still, it was a dangerous venture.'' I started.

Colbert gasped. He must have heard such stories before.

''Yes.'' I said between my clenched teeth. ''It failed.'' I took a deep breath, trying to not become overly emotional. I have yet to see the sun. ''We were nine. Our mother Quelai, my six sisters, Quelazan, Quelaya, Quelava, Quelaal, Quelaag, Quelana and myself, Quelaan, were in the ritual room, while our little brother Quelon stayed outside as back-up.''

''Our mother, Quelaal and Quelava were engulfed in an instant.'' I breathed slowly, trying to not be overwhelmed by my feelings. ''Quelon tried to seal the room, but he was, transformed.'' I had trouble with the last word. ''Then, Quelazan lost her mind and stayed behind. The four of us remaining fled away.'' I remembered my last days in Izalith, I shivered, remembering the birth of the Bed of Chaos, and the horrors it unleashed upon the world.

''During our flight, due to panic, we split up. Quelaya with Quelana and Quelaag with me. We survived. Still, the two of us did not escape unscathed.'' I looked behind me, looking at my legs. Colbert's eyes widened with understanding.

''Once we ceased to panic, the two of us tried to find our remaining sisters. You were right sir Colbert, we did part on bad terms.'' My voice was nothing but a whisper. The hall was more silent still. The teacher managed to find his words with efforts. ''How?''

''Quelaya was already dead when we found her. And Quelana… She reacted badly when she saw us.'' We scared her. I didn't want to expand on it. Colbert winced, intelligent enough to imagine the circumstances of our encounter.

I hadn't liked telling the story, but I felt like I released some other venom that I didn't know I had kept inside of me. I felt somehow lighter.

But I was so tired now, and the worst of the story was still to come. I didn't want to talk about how I succumbed to weakness trying to help the inhabitants of the Great Swamp, how I pleaded Quelaag to kill me, and how she left me because she couldn't bear her powerlessness or my endless suffering. Then, there was Eingyi. It felt so gloomy.

''Things happened.'' I resumed. ''I fell sick, Quelaag died, a wanderer saved me and I landed here.'' I said. I didn't want to talk anymore. The wanderer killed Quelaag, found me, obliterated my prison, and healed me with the remnants of the souls of several hundred undead. A detail I wouldn't tell the mage.

The silence was heavy in the hall as I ended my story.

''All my condolences to your family, Miss Quelaan.'' Said Colbert. Well, there wasn't much else he could say after that.

''I am tired of speaking Sir Colbert. Could you let me just listen to you for a while please?'' I asked politely, but wearily.

Colbert was more than happy to indulge me. I asked him details about our current location. It wouldn't do well for me to not know the lands I invaded. I also wanted to know more about this Tiffania Westwood, to whom I was greatly indebted. Colbert answered all these questions understandingly.

Apparently, I had been summoned to a castle in the city of Aquileia. Said city being located in the state of Romalia, in the continent of Halkeginia. Romalia is a theocracy, with as ruler the Pope, the spokesperson of who I assumed was the local god, taking care of mundane human issues. The other nations of Halkeginia, Gallia, Tristain, Albion and Germania are all magocratic kingdoms with a nobility composed of mages.

Brimir is worshipped in these lands. I didn't know the name, which was once again strange, but then again, it could somehow be linked to the translation sorcery Colbert cast. It wouldn't be strange if it had trouble translating names, or local pronounciations. It might also be just a misunderstanding about the name of the divinity. Brimir's true name might as well be Brom, Brémir, or Braham. I remember meeting a recluse god in Anor Londo named Brunihr. His main priest being near, I would just ask him.

I had been summoned by Tiffania Westwood, one of Colbert's students, after she asked him to teach her the ritual to accomplish it. Apparently, she started her studies several months ago at Tristain's Academy of Magic, a school dedicated to teaching the magical arts, up in the north of our current location, and where Colbert was usually teaching. A number of students had been invited by their queen, Henrietta of Tristain, to follow her for her diplomatic visit in Romalia, and Colbert, as one of their teachers proposed to supervise them. Tiffania Westwood was part of the number of invited students.

She was apparently an unusual student, coming from the country of Albion, which had recently suffered several political strifes, even further in the north than Tristain. She also had a parent coming from a foreign ethnic group named elves, which were extremely uncommon.

The girl, because of her heritage, only had few friends at Tristain. One of them being the chevalier Saito de Hiraga, or Saito Hiraga, quite an unusual name. Her other friend was one Louise de La Vallière, second in succession to the Crown of Tristain and third daughter of the La Vallière family. There were several surprising elements there. First, that for such a discrete girl, she had quite an important character as a friend. Second, that there were obviously peculiar circumstances for a third daughter to be the current heiress of a kingdom.

''Miss Quelaan, you already know them. You have met both tonight.'' Said Colbert good-naturedly. Already? I thought about it for a second before I froze.

''Sir Colbert, are you talking about the boy with a cape and the pink-haired child wearing the same uniform as my summoner?'' I asked, somewhat anxious. He nodded and I winced. The first thing I had done coming here was to try to harm two of my creditor's friends, which could as well be translated into all of her friends with her background. I would have to hope an apology would be enough to be forgiven. Still, there was something strange there.

''Shouldn't a person of La Vallière's stature have bodyguards?'' I was quite worried by the lack of security around here. Even a politically ignored member of a royal family is supposed to have some kind of constant protection. It was unnerving, not that I actually complained.

The teacher reassured me. ''Miss La Vallière already has Saito as bodyguard, he is her familiar after all.'' I rose an eyebrow to that.

''Is it common to have humans as familiar?'' I asked, while looking at the entrance for a short moment. I wondered if the boy, no, young man, he was granted a title of chevalier I recalled, was paid for his work or if he was just de facto in slavery.

Colbert shook his head. ''No, in fact, it is almost unprecedented as far as I know. I looked into it after Miss La Vallière summoned him. There must be a link between Saito's summoning and yours.''

Not knowing the details of this summoning ritual, I would have been hard-pressed to give the right answer. I didn't even know if I could be considered a human being. Still, I was sure about something.

''If there is any link, it wouldn't come from the summoned beings, but from the summoning mages.'' I said.

''Why do you think so?'' Colbert seemed to have reached the same conclusion, but he wanted to know my reasoning. It must have been too obvious for him to understand it. Well, being blind to the world is a common occurence for intellectuals.

''Because I am much more outstanding than this Saito. I do not dare to think you would teach your students a spell so random as to make them able to summon either a boy or a being as exceptional as I.'' I explained.

Colbert did not expect this statement it seemed, as he choked himself in his own breath. ''Well, it is a laudatory argument.'' Not that much, he must have been confused. Wasn't my statement obvious?

''Maybe Tiffania Westwood and this La Vallière would know something about it.''

''It might be possible.'' Colbert admitted, his tone somehow suspicious. ''We can always ask them later. They are sleeping now.''

A silence filled the hall.

I eyed the entrance. ''I wonder, what time is it please?''

''Oh. We have spent the whole night talking, the dawn should be near.'' Hearing his statement made me feel restless. Colbert saw it.

''Would you like to go outside, Miss Quelaan?'' He said.

It made me sigh. ''Am I so obvious Sir Colbert?''

''I have seen you watching the door since I you brought inside. I suspected you were waiting for something.'' The man could be quite sharp when he wanted to. ''I am a little tired, but I wouldn't mind watching the sunrise if it is in such excellent company.'' He smiled at me quite handsomely. He had most probably seduced quite a few ladies in his prime.

''Oh my.'' I played the courtesan. ''I will take up on your invitation with pleasure, Sir Colbert.'' I answered courteously, before bantering. ''But do you not fear that others might feel it is inappropriate for a grown man such as yourself to watch the moon, waiting for sunrise, with a young woman such as myself?''

''Others will scorn me anyway for talking all night to a naked beauty as fair as you. At least, watching the moons in the sky would distract me from your comeliness.'' He said good-naturedly. He wasn't deprived of a silver tongue, and my previous joke gave him more leeway to banter with me. Ah, waiting for the morrow, looking at the moons…

I froze.

The moons in the sky?

I had a cold feeling coming from deep inside my guts. It is not supposed to happen. My guts are the core of my kiln, a place where infernos are kindled. It is not supposed to be frozen by an intuition. The last time that happened, was when Mother chastised me after I pranked Quelaya. It took me eleven centuries before daring to do it again.

''Moons in the sky?'' I muttered, panicked. ''There is only one moon in the sky. Why would there be anything else than the moon in the sky?'' I tried to laugh, but it came out wrong.

Jean Colbert was confused.

A joke, please, let it be a bad joke from your vindicative streak, I beg of you.

''No Miss Quelaan, there are of course two moons in the sky.'' His sentence was direct and innocent as if he spoke to a child. It came to my ears with the soft touch and the friendliness of an undead dragon, the meaning of the sentence as inviting as its breath.

''Explain yourself.'' Hostility oozed out of my lips as I asked him to confirm my fears.

''Maybe it would be easier to show you.'' The man had the nerve to smile. I followed him, barely thinking about the little size of the door and its underlying discrimination towards large individuals.

- Scene Break -

We left the tower. Colbert and I must have indeed talked for a long time, for the sky had changed colour. We were at the end of the night, at a time when dawn wouldn't take very long to come.

I gazed at this sky, transfixed by the sight.

There were two orbs, high in the sky. One had a slightly red colour and the other, a smaller one, exulted a green light. They were bigger than the other stars in the sky, and they weren't composed of fire. They looked in fact like huge lands of some cosmic stone so far away they were above the sky.

Theoretically they were, what are called moons.

For a few moments, I stayed still. Colbert, this rascal, smiled gently at my side, but he was now a bit wary that I would lash out at something. I wondered if I would indulge myself in this kind of behaviour now, but it would have been out of character for me. I may have been a little agitated beforehand, but it wasn't as though I was violent by nature. I'm usually a delicate and intelligent figure, I had just been somewhat under the weather.

A bit under the weather…. I made up my mind. I would laugh.

Starting low, I chuckled demurely, before cachinnating as if I had heard the best joke this side of the millenium, in fact it was the unique one I had heard in this period of time. I could hear my voice booming, echoing through the cut stone-paved courtyard, if no-one heard the sound from the explosion of fire I had caused earlier, now they certainly would. It was extremely thoughtless of me, but oh so cathartic. I stopped only when I had completely lost my breath.

''Would you like to share the joke?'' Jean Colbert asked me at my side, less wary than before my laugh.

''It is the irony, the irony of this situation, which is so huge and so obviously simple I'm not sure I completely paid homage to it with a laugh as discrete as mine.'' I explained, doing my best to not giggle again. The dear teacher let me continue.

''It was my hope to find something familiar from my previous life to hold on to. As you must have understood, I have lost much. My life has changed so quickly I couldn't acknowledge what has happened. It was my hope that the sight of the sun would help me, by the fact the world itself is still the same. Even when everything else has changed.'' A sad smile was plastered on my face as I spoke.

''Unfortunately, during the darkest hours of my life, I was trapped in a bottomless pit, with as skyline nothing more than earth, roots, and rocks. It was as my death came closer and I began to let myself fall into despair that Tiffania Westwood's plea came to me. A chance to live on, in another place.''

''Here is the irony.'' I concluded here. I had talked much, it must have been because I had missed hearing my voice for so long. Story-telling seemed to be a good hobby to adopt then. I certainly did not lack content to turn into epic stories.

''You wanted to see the sun, Miss Quelaan, this is why you purposely accepted the summoning, but in fact, you didn't seek the sun, but the familiarity it would bring to you.'' Colbert explained with his own words. ''The irony here is that by seeking to fulfill your wish, you betrayed your deep down desire, from which it sprang.''

At least, I didn't have to explain everything. ''Exactly. You are used to having your two moons, but I have always been used to having only one moon in the sky. Even the stars's position are foreign to me.''

Colbert pondered on something. ''Is the fact that you were alone underground for such a long time the reason that you do not mind being naked now?''

I thought it was obvious. ''The reason why I feel no embarrassment is because I am kind enough to let you admire me.'' Oddly enough, he seemed surprised by my answer.

''Pardon me?''

I hadn't felt a cold wind on my skin for a very long time as he had deduced, thus I greatly appreciated the feeling now. To be embarrased about being naked while I was happy about feeling the breath of wind on my skin was alien to me. It would also be a shame to hide my beauty to the world.

I ignored the teacher and watched the moons, thinking. ''One exults a red light, and the other a green one. Sir Colbert, am I right when I fear that the sun you are used to burns blue?''

He shook his head. ''Don't let it disturb you. The sun burns as the brightest star in the sky with the colour of the hottest flames. You needn't to worry about that, except of course if you are used to a sun burning purple.''

''Thank Gwyn for this blessing.'' I sighed in relief. ''At least, I know the limits of Tiffania Westwood's cruelty.''

Again, I took the mage by surprise. I must have a vindicative streak of my own, as I took great pleasure from it. ''Miss Westwood's cruelty? I think you are mistaken Miss Quelaan, Miss Westwood is one of the most shy and gentle students I have ever had.''

I rose an eyebrow at that. ''Being gentle has nothing to do with kindness or cruelty, as much as being polite doesn't mean you are respectful. And to have summoned me in those circumstances, only a most cruel person would have done it.'' I explained.

''The summoning ritual is using the mage's willpower and his affinity, or a reagent to summon the most appropriate familiar for him or her. Miss Westwood is not at fault since she had no way of knowing your circumstances.'' Told Colbert, doing his best to protect his student.

''From what you have told me, I am an unusual summoning, yet Tiffania Westwood didn't use any kind of reagent. I wasn't chosen because of her affinity, for I have myself none despite my skill in pyromancy. And as for willpower, it is an ambiguous term. It can be either her sheer potential to high-level spells or something else from her mind.'' It was strange discussing a foreign supernatural system, but I managed through following the main ideas. ''If the reason she summoned me specifically sprang from her mind, I might be right.''

''Even if it were true, it is not a reason to believe Miss Westwood would wrong you purposely.'' Jean complained, trying to defend the girl. I smiled, he was so young and straight-laced.

''Sir Colbert, you misunderstood me. I never said that Tiffania Westwood wronged me. I was saying she was cruel.'' It was fun to play with the man. ''And anyway, had I known about the summoning, I think I would have still accepted.''

''I have more and more trouble understanding you, Miss Quelaan.'' I suspected the man was starting to be weary of me. It was understandable. I would not ask of a human to understand the workings of my mind. The uniqueness of my brilliance would prevent anyone from grasping anything but a shard of my character.

So once again, I had to explain myself. Colbert couldn't possibly have a good understanding of my circumstances when I withheld information from him.

''I do not want to be unhappy, and I want to see the sun.'' I said, watching the horizon. I already saw light being reflected in the clouds above my head. The sun would not take long to come. ''It is not that I want to feel its warmth, if I wanted not to be cold, I could just surround myself in my own flame, I am skilled enough to do it.''

''Back in the land of Lordran, where I came from, Lord Gwyn's symbol was the sun high in the sky.'' I explained. ''It is his symbol, and Lord Gwyn is its avatar. By seeking the sun, I am seeking to be closer to Lord Gwyn, and to relate to him.''

Thankfully, Colbert learned to say nothing while I was telling a story. He might have made a religious inquiry otherwise. As I spoke, I walked into the middle of the courtyard, followed by Colbert.

''Before departing Lordran to come here, I learned that Gwyn, after the failure of the covenant, sacrificed himself in order to save the land. He willingly went to the core of the world to burn and save the world from falling into darkness.''

I took a deep breath.

''I want to feel the warmth of the sunlight in order to relate with Gwyn, who is feeling right now that same heat, a hundred thousand fold more intensely.'' I said. Colbert was listening to me, transfixed. ''Do you know, Sir Colbert, what I feel when I think about Gwyn, burning in the hottest of the flames in the core of the world?''

He stuttered. ''I do not know.'' I chuckled at his answer.

''What I feel is, sheer and utter glee.'' I mouthed the words like they were a most delicious delicacy.

Jean's eyes widened in horror. ''What?!''

''Yes. When I think of the old coot, trying to scream as his blazing beard burns his lips and his tongue turns to ashes as he is forced to breath through the flames, to the pain and the panic, I cannot help but to feel elated.'' Even thinking about it was making me smile with fondness. Gwyn's face as he realized that he could not escape, that his struggle was futile, before becoming indifferent to the agony devoring his body and losing all hope of one day being rescued...

''But, but. Why?!'' It seems Colbert couldn't understand.

''Why what? Why do I feel so good about Gwyn's suffering? It is because I despise him.'' As far as I knew, hatred was one of the emotions humans could easily understand. Hatred is not something too complicated for a human mind.

''But from your story, Gwyn is the one who invited you in his city of Anor Londo, why would you want the death of your patron?'' It seemed that indeed, the teacher was sincerely confused. How odd.

''I have never said our covenant appreciated being in Anor Londo, nor that we had a choice about being under Gwyn's rule.'' I was playing with words once again. ''He was also the one who pushed us to try something as desperate as the ritual for the Birth of the Second Flame. Even had we succeeded, we would have lost much. In short, I blame Gwyn for the destruction of my family.''

Colbert seemed to sag at my side as if he didn't know what to say. Not that I would have listened to him anyway. I was watching the coming of the dawn, when I suddenly had an idea.

''Sir Colbert, could you lend me your staff please?'' I asked. The man was quite nervous after my declaration of hatred. ''I would like to have some privacy, I will need to cast some sorceries.'' I explained.

Hearing that, the teacher eagerly lent me his staff. More large than those I was used to, but I couldn't have expected an archtree's branch from the Age of Ancients. I'm missing my old one… As I thought, it was possible to use his staff as catalyst. I cast an improved version of Hush in order to silence the noises I made. I gave the catalyst back. ''Thank you.'' I said.

Colbert analysed it quickly. ''It is some kind of ward. You mentioned privacy, it must silence sounds, is that it?'' I nodded. The man could be quite slow with people, but was very quick when it came to spells.

I saw guards coming towards us. After all this time, I was beginning to think there weren't any sentinels around.

''Sir Colbert, there are guards coming here. Could you amuse them without distracting me please?'' I would have prefered to make it an order, but I didn't have any authority over him.

''Are you sure you do not want to...'' ''Sir Colbert.'' I interrupted him, my tone cold and sharp. ''My desire is minutes away from appearing in front of my eyes and I am rested. Are you sure you want to displease me?'' I did not say I would hurt him, literally at least.

The teacher seemed to think for a few seconds before telling me. ''Good morning then, Miss Quelaan.'' He then left towards the guards. I was grateful to him.

I looked into the now bright horizon.

My plan had been first to watch the sun. I then expected to be killed by something as I was distracted. Tiffania Westwood altered my plan by summoning me for an unlimited period of time, but my goal remained the same.

Before I could do anything, I would have to put aside my anger against Gwyn. I liked the idea of him suffering because I couldn't do anything to hurt him myself. It wasn't only I who felt like this, but the whole covenant. Even our Mother, the Witch of Izalith, couldn't fight on equal grounds against him. It was why we hated him and were forced to bend our knees to him. It was the knowledge of our powerlessness.

I hate Gwyn. I despise how weak I am compared to him. I also dislike being so little as to feel joy because Gwyn suffer even without my assistance.

I was indebted to Tiffania Westwood for the opportunity she granted me to come here. Even without the whole adventure in Blighttown, Lordran would have been consumed by the Dark sooner or later. To be rescued beforehand was a boon. To be able to start anew in a land I had never heard of wasn't something bad. It may even make me happy for a time.

Happiness would never be something I took for granted after the Bed of Chaos disaster. For a young girl to have given me such a chance was a miracle I wouldn't dare to tarnish because of my own shortcomings. I would give the girl a lifetime of my loyalty as her familiar for this opportunity. And if I were to dedicate myself to this goal, I would have to first deal with my own issues.

The issues being my guilt, my bitterness, my frustration and my hatred towards Gwyn. Thankfully, all of this could be redirected back to the sun, of which I felt now the light on my skin.

I would empty myself of all these feelings bottled inside my heart, and burn them away in an allegorical pyre. I would redirect all my aggression towards Gwyn, towards the sun, and then burn it away.

All I had to do now was to imagine Gwyn's demise as the sun rise.

Gwyn had already burned for a thousand years. He had suffered alongside me for such a long time. The wanderer wouldl fight the Lord of Sunlight when he couldn't use the slightest spark of his authority, when he was old, crippled, blind, numb to pain and to emotions, when he would have lost all notion of time, when his mind had been totally consumed by the First Flame and would only be able to fight through mechanical reflexes he had last used back in the Age of Ancients.

Oh, even then Gwyn would be too strong for the wanderer to kill him right away. But the wanderer will not be defeated even if he dies. He would continue to harry Gwyn, again and again, each time more prepared than before, while Gwyn would only continue to burn, weaker and weaker until he is unable to protect himself.

It felt so right at that moment. The wanderer's blade, bathed in the blood of my dead sisters, would torment Gwyn until he couldn't even stand on his own and then, victorious, stab his old, withered heart.

To focus all my hatred and my frustration towards the sun in order to burn it away, it was so cathartic. I felt my emotions going through my personal kiln before leaving my body in a breath of fire. I was purged in my own flames as I contemplated the sun, prayed to the sun.

I allowed myself a smile. I remembered Gwyn's firstborn and his jolly character, before his father exiled him and sealed his memories away. To pray as he had seemed appropriate now.

I extended my arms towards the sky.

Praise the sun!

End of the chapter

Author's note:

I am proud to show you the result of several months of work, my first fanfiction. After spending my whole year on this website, I decided to write something in order to share my gratitude with fanfiction. net, where the line between the reader and the writer is hazy.

I do not know if I will continue to write this fanfiction, it would take me at least a month before I start to write anything decent. I also have another idea, which will bring me to write in another universe.

Let it be known that English is not my main language, and that I am French.