Prologue

Monotony's End

The flame was bright. So bright, that it cast the surrounding emptiness in shadow. It was as if this bonfire was at the center of The Abyss, and I the only inhabitant of this world. It swirled listlessly, endlessly spinning in a cycle that would never end. The orange and yellow hues were comfortable.

Bonfires were the only places that were partially spared of conflict, but even then fewer were completely safe from invasion. This was one of those few, and so I allowed myself to become hypnotized by its spell. It mattered not how much time passed. I knew from experience. Time had no meaning in hell.

Eventually, however, I stood. My surroundings hadn't changed, nor would they ever if eons were spent gazing into that flame. Before me, the wooden doors that led into the "Princess'" Chamber were closed. To my back, the rest of Anor Londo lay barren as the empty cathedrals basked in the perpetual twilight.

I ascended the stairs with little ceremony, and braced my gloved palms against the dusty redwood. How many times? How many times have I been here? I shook off the thought, and focused entirely on the motions. I pushed the doors open, creating a slit that spilled more light the wider it became. I stopped when the gap was enough for me to enter, no more and no less.

I passed the doors, and slowly walked into the chamber. The faint, gallant music immediately began to whisper all around me. It was hopeful, mystical, enchanting. It fit the majestic room perfectly, and so I had never questioned it the first time I had stepped into this seemingly divine space. I had been taken in by the soft carpet under my naked feet, the statues of silver knights that guarded dutifully, even though all of their ranks were long dead. The sheer contrast of this chamber, this moment, had been so impactful as to fool me.

Now, as I entered, I could see the dust that covered the carpet-less tiles. I could hear my own footfalls echo loudly, too loudly, as I traversed. And when I looked upon the single inhabitant of this grand farce, I could no longer appreciate her beauty.

Waiting there was the giant laying upon her silken bed. She was overshadowed by the brilliant radiance that emanated from the curtained window behind her. Even so, my eyes adjusted to the dark. I could plainly make out the image that'd so easily won my fealty.

"Thou hast journey'd far, and overcome much, chosen Undead. Come hither, child…"

I did. Kneeling at the base of the bed, as I always had, I listened to her repeat the same words she always gave.

"O chosen Undead. I am Gwynevere. Daughter of Lord Gwyn; and Queen of Sunlight…"

No, she wasn't. I knew exactly who was spouting those lies, who was behind the strings.

"…bequeath the Lordvessel to thee. And Beseech thee. Succeed Lord Gwyn, and inheriteth the Fire of our world..."

How many times have I done this? How many times have I done exactly as I was told, thinking it would accomplish something?

"…endeth this eternal twilight, and avert further Undead sacrifices."

It doesn't have an end. It will never have an end. This suffering will continue. No matter how many times I threw myself to the flame, no matter how many times I have saved the people trying to live in this horrid land, no matter how many souls I gathered, it was never enough! I always ended where I had begun. None of my actions have mattered. None of my actions will ever matter. Nothing has had any meaning, so why repeat it? Why not try something, anything, to get some new result. Anything would do… Anything.

I realized she had ceased speaking, and rose from my knee. From a pouch, I equipped the pyromancy flame. I only stood there, watching the illusion bounce as it breathed the musty air. Doubt seeped into my mind. A part of me screamed to turn around, that there may be another way. That perhaps this time it would work, and the cycle would break, and peace would finally be acquired through my valiant sacrifice.

I shut those thoughts out. Nothing would save me from simply repeating what I have done from the beginning. I would never make it through another cycle. My body, no, my mind would give out long before then. This, at the very least, offered some new experience. This… this had to be done.

I casted the fireball as high as I could launch it. It exploded onto the unarmored woman, causing a woeful scream that filled the chamber. She evaporated in a shower of white, leaving the sizable furniture empty. For one horrifying moment, I thought that nothing would happen. That my actions had yielded nothing yet again, and I was still stuck on this path which held no end. So when the light dimmed, and an alien voice came from the waxing darkness, I felt an excitement I thought I had lost long ago.

"Thou that tarnisheth the Godmother's image. I am Gwyndolin. And thy transgression shall not go unpunished. Thou shalt perish in the twilight of Anor Londo."