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krastbannert · 2 years

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Works Masterlist

I had a masterlist page on my blog, but apparently on mobile - which, I would imagine, people use more regularly - it doesn't exactly work correctly. So, here's a post instead. This contains all of my works, both fandom and original. I'll update it as I remember to do so.

Feel free to pester me about any of them!

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Ashmaker AU

Ashmaker - V1 - They were all the same. They were refugees. Outcasts. Orphans made by a war started so long ago that peace wasn’t something any of them considered. But here, they had a chance to start over. And with a new life, for each one came a new name. Here, now, he’s Longshot - the refugee, the orphan, the archer, the Freedom Fighter.

But once, not so long ago, he had been someone different. Once, his mother had been earth, dirt, and stone; his father, smoke and fire and warmth. Once, his name had been Kazon. Once, he had been a citizen of Fire. And always, he had been a firebender. But no matter who he was or where he went, the same question burned in his heart:

Will he ever be more than just another ashmaker?

Burn on the Pyre - A boy with a heart of fire searches for family, a girl with no one else searches for meaning, and a ragged firebrand starts a new war. A quiet war - a war in the shadows.

Across the world, a prince with half a face looks for the truth, a princess with half a heart and half a soul searches for home, and neither can see the revolution simmering at home.

All it takes to light the pyre is a one spark - and when the fire starts to burn, there's only one question: who burns with it?

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Book one of the story of the Freedom Fighters, of a boy with a heart of fire, and how a world fought back.

Trigger warnings for depiction of fictional racism, and semi-graphic depictions of violence.

Waiting to be Seen - A small, fluffy moment, years post-war, between Longshot, Smellerbee, and some neighborhood kids (and their own).

The Good, the Bad, and the Life in Between

Twin Flames - Azula meets her niece Izumi for the first time, and finds something in her that she hadn’t expected.

Lonely - A stolen moment between Zuko and Azula. Takes place after Season 3 Episode 5: ‘The Beach’.

Lonely Together - Another stolen moment between Zuko and Azula, after their loves have passed away.

to that loyal heart you’re forever sixteen - Chit Sang had a daughter in the 41st Division. Zuko remembers her.

Drifting Up the Cliffs With the Rising Stars - Zuko left her behind. He knows it, regrets it, and wishes he could change it. When Mai escapes the Boiling Rock, he thinks they might have a chance to start over. But first they have to finish what they started.

those stories written in your skin - Zuko, it turns out, has tattoos. A lot of tattoos. And each one tells a story.

Giving Thanks and Other Things - Fourteen years after the war, the Gaang and their families gather together at the Jasmine Dragon for Ba Sing Se’s Mid-Autumn Festival, a holiday to gather together friends and family and give thanks for the blessings of life. In the midst of the party, Iroh takes a moment, and simply observes over a cup of tea.

but one cup of sake - Zuko is old, and his time has come. The day he knows is his last, he revives one more forgotten tradition before he passes.

the easiest thing in the world - It was such a simple question, something he should have thought of long before. But it takes Zuko actually saying it for him to start thinking about it. What are you gonna do when you face my father? When Zuko comes to him, Aang has to ask the question that’s been on his mind ever since.

A Mirror of Possibility - A little moment between Azula and Kiyi, prior to Azula’s re-coronation as a Princess.

Look How Far We’ve Come - Somehow, from a thousand miles away, they can see it. A brilliant, shining spear of brilliant blue light. Zuko’s seen something like it before, and he can’t help but think of that day. The day that Aang came back - and now, a year later, they’re here. So much has happened, and it’s only brought them full circle - right back to the way they started.

Brave Soldier Girl - The story of Azula, and her long journey home from the war.

We Will Become Silhouettes

Hey, Pretty Boy - The story of a boy and a girl, and a love that ends far, far too soon.

One Night in September - It’s been two years since Yue passed. Two years of grieving, of missing the girl he had married at just sixteen years old - and lost moments later. Two years, and he decides that maybe it’s time to stop running, and start again. And he’s not quite sure when he first started thinking of Suki that way, just that it feels right.

Sometimes a second chance at love is earth-shattering - and sometimes it’s just a random September night and a girl who can kick his ass.

A Place in Between - In a strange place in between places, after a long, long time, two people reunite.

A Place to Call Home - In the City of Stars, a girl gets a chance to start over, in friendship, in love, and in life. Or, Mai finally wakes up in Ba Sing Se - and the reality of what she’s done starts to set in.

That Others May Live - Or, all gave some, and some gave all.

Go For Broke - Thousands of miles from home, Kanto makes his choice. The one that every soldier has to make at some point - stay, or go?

(Stay, he'll answer. Because someone has to. Because he has to.)

Hopefully, one day, he'll see his family again.

Maybe, one day, they'll forgive him.

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Based on the true story of Hiroshi “Hershey” Miyamura, Sergeant (Ret.) United States Army, recipient of the Medal of Honor.

Miscellaneous

Taangst Week 2021 - the ghosts that we knew made us blackened or blue

Swing Life Away - A little adventure for Toph and Aang turns out to be something a whole lot more.

To Dance The Blade - Zuko watches his girlfriend as she dances, turning her swords into art, and he can’t help but admire what she becomes on the floor. (Written for Spring Maiko Week 2021 - Day 3, ‘Ethereal’)

Punch Drunk Love - Jet hadn’t meant to say it. He really hadn’t; sometimes, on a bad day, he just snaps.

Normally, though, it’s not to a beautiful girl who can also deck him.

And normally, he’s not meeting that girl again days later.

(If only he hadn’t totally fucked their first meeting up.)

All the Little Things - Tumblr prompt dumping ground.

home is your hand in mine - In the time they never thought they'd get, Smellerbee and Longshot have to decide what to do now that the war's over.

As long as they have each other, though, they're not sure it really matters.

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Written for Avatar Sunken Ships Week 2021 Day 2 - Running Away Together.

Under Mistletoe and Falling Snow - During an emergency visit to the hospital, Kiyi manages to work a little Christmas magic for her brother.

Go For Broke - Thousands of miles from home, Kanto makes his choice. The one that every soldier has to make at some point - stay, or go?

(Stay, he'll answer. Because someone has to. Because he has to.)

Hopefully, one day, he'll see his family again.

Maybe, one day, they'll forgive him.

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Based on the true story of Hiroshi “Hershey” Miyamura, Sergeant (Ret.) United States Army, recipient of the Medal of Honor.

Original Works

Songs of the Sea

Sins of the Past - When Corvin and Ilaera join the crew of the SS Tethyria Blue, they stumble upon a family they never expected - but like every family, this one has skeletons in the closet. Some buried deeper than others.

But it's only when they notice murders in every port they stop in - murders that seem very familiar to the ship's mysterious security officer, Skar, murders that leave him looking haunted, like he's seen a ghost - that the two begin to wonder: how deep are this family's secrets, and when they start looking, what will they uncover?

(Secret identities, disavowed missions, rebel warlords, and a trail of bodies leading back to one place: one of the darkest chapters of the Great War, and the Scorpion King.)

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Book One of Songs of the Sea.

A Surprise Trip Home - Ilaera gets a present for her birthday, one she didn’t expect, from a source she never could have imagined.

Escaping the Shells - Just because Hakim had escaped the shells didn’t mean he was in one piece. Sometimes, in the night, he’s still there, tangled in the barbed wire.

(The war had taken something from all of them, even the ones who didn’t carry the marks where others could see.)

Told You So - Ilaera is standing in the rain - and Corvin just needs to know why.

The Dragon Prince

If the Sky Comes Falling Down - Soren, for one last time, goes out to the spot he and his sister shared growing up. A quiet spot, just for them to think and laugh with each other, a place he hasn’t been in a long time - and runs into someone he didn’t expect, but always hoped to see.

Mass Effect

Scars - Jack accidentally learns something about Miranda, and she’s not entirely sure what to do with it.

Tron: Legacy

Sunrise - Quorra experiences the one thing she’s wanted more than anything.

Destiny

sinners to be saints

to live all our days once more - Every story has a beginning.

Every Guardian, a new life. A second chance, a chance to live their life again.

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A REDUX version of my old work, "Rise".

"Trust me." - Petra takes a chance, and listens to her boyfriend.

(He, of course, takes the chance to give her a bit of a scare - but she thinks she made the right decision.)

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REDUX version of my old work by the same title.

from under an ironwood - Lia does some digging - and gets Sig to admit to his greatest secret.

Sometimes, heroes are never made public. Sometimes they get dirty, so the world stays clean. Sometimes, they think they're anything but a hero.

Moments

First Kiss - Petra and Sig go to a Christkindlmarkt (Christmas Market) in the streets of the Last City; Petra is nervous, and Sig does his best to help guide her through. By the end of the night, their relationship has gone somewhere neither expected, but both want.

Fishing - Lia goes fishing at the Farm, and gets into some deep thoughts.

Rise - Every Guardian has a beginning. A second chance. A chance to live their life over. Every one of those beginnings is a little different. Some are born amidst tranquility, from the glittering shores of Terran lakes to the iron sands of Martian deserts. Others are born in fire, fighting even for their first breath. And for some…for some, their second chance is not their first resurrection, and it is not given, but earned in blood.

Trust Me - Another day, another adventure with Sig.

Six Wounds - The five times Lia heals Sykron, and the one time he heals her.

The Abyss - In the aftermath of the Battle of Six Fronts, Sig wanders the empty streets of the Last City. He wanders, gazing at the devastation, and ponders the cost to the survivors…and to himself.

Dragon Age

Drips, Drops, and Drabbles - Thedas is a violent, terrible, funny, beautiful place. It would only make sense that the little bit and pieces of life for our favorite cast of assholes heroes are just like the world they call home, from moments of romance and laughter to violence and darkness.

Basically just little drabbles and short stories unrelated to any other writings that I get random ideas for.

Horizon

Maybe Even Two - Born an outcast, and suddenly thrust into a new role as a Seeker, Aloy - quite frankly - doesn't really know what she's doing. All she knows is she needs to find the woman who looks like her. Is she her mother? She has no idea - but she's the key. And, there is, she knows, a lot she doesn't have time for on this journey; after all, she has killers to track, and machines to master, all before breakfast.

But, as she travels, she slowly finds that there's a certain Vanguardsman who she'll always have a minute for. Maybe even two.

#my writing #works masterlist #please do not reblog this post

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nightfoxproductions726 · 3 years

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The Gods and Goddesses of the Kaeyama

This list is about the major deities that are currently known in Bolyra and parts of the Kaeyama. There will be a part two to this over time. Also, there are Demigods and Demigoddesses as well as Lesser Gods and Goddesses known as Guardians. These deities will get their own special blog post in the future.

Corrus: Corrus is the void God of the galaxy, the creator of the planets, and the starting deities of those worlds. He’s also known to destroy planets when he sees fit. Or he’ll destroy a planet, if a deity or the mortals of said world has done something to upset him. While he’s somewhat known to the planets, he’s not known to have worshipers by any of the mortal races.

Twin Goddesses, Aletha and Nephele of the Kaeyama: While Corrus is known to create planets, he doesn’t breathe life into said worlds. This is where his daughters, Aletha and Nephele, come into play. They are the ones who created the Kaeyama Cores, the Nundorth Forest, and the LifeBlood Tree. These two are currently sealed away in the highest Punishment Realms due to becoming corrupted and nearly destroying the Kaeyama with their wars.

Tovldir the God of the Night and Dreams: Tovldir, his brother Dinir the God of Light, and his wife, Oelia Goddess of the Twin Suns where the first deities of the newly formed planet to emerge from the soil of the Nundorth Forest near the base of the LifeBlood Tree. Tovldir is known for being the creator of the stars, raising the Twin Moons, and creating some laws for the mortals. He and Oelia besides a few select Gods and Goddesses are the only ones known across the Kaeyama and worshiped.

Oelia the Goddess of the Twin Suns: Oelia is the second known deity outside of a few select Gods and Goddesses known across the Kaeyama. She’s the one that raises the Twin Suns and collaborates laws with Anise the Goddess of Lands.

Dinir the God of Light: Dinir the God of Light is known for bestowing nonhuman races with the Light Magic ability and creating the Zenirons with Terinea's help through some special clay she had created, a race that is known specifically for wielding Light and Healing Magic. He’s also the one that created the Light Magic system in which it doesn’t affect a user unless they use Light Magic for Healing or their body has lost the ability to use magic (e.g. cursed).

Anise the Goddess of Lands: Anise the Goddess of Lands is known for keeping an eye on the wellbeing of plants, nature, and fertility of the grounds. Her spirit animals, Silvercrest the Barn Owl and Selene the Snowy Owl, assist her in ensuring the lands are safe. She’s also the one that breathed life into the countries.

Maaos the God of Time and Magic: Maaos is the master over time and magic. He has control over time and issues out who can use magic or not. This God is part of the reason why only 8% of the human population can actually use magic.

Auna the Goddess of Waters: Auna the Goddess of Waters and her Dragonfly Nymphs along with the Lunar Oceanids and their God, Cyresis, are known for keeping the waters pure to ensure plant growth, clean drinking, and bath water. As a way to keep waste down, Cyresis and some of his Lunar Oceanids, have agreed to dealing with the waste within the waters.

Akbris the God of Truth and Knowledge: Akbris the God of Truth and Knowledge is the one who bestowed the mortals with knowledge and to be truthful towards others. Since he’s been sealed away by Demon Lords, the people have forgotten about him, and his teachings.

Ophine the Goddess of Fertility: Ophine the Goddess Fertility is the one who’s in charge of ensuring safe births with her Midwife Healers and also watches over the Churches and Sanctuaries that are in her name. She’s known as the Mother Goddess to orphan children, who pray to her to ensure they get loving homes.

Levtar the God of Justice: Levtar the God of Justice is known for being judge, jury, and executioner when it comes towards crimes against humanity. He as well as Tovldir are known to give special people premonition dreams, but this is only utilized if it affects that person or the country.

Terinea the Goddess of Wellbeing: Terinea is known for assisting those who cannot be helped by her Healers. Which ranges from severe injuries, unknown diseases, and helps those with mental illness. Now, when it comes to the mental illness portion, she’ll alleviate symptoms and act as a therapist.

Zinas the God of Flames, Blacksmith, and Hearth: Zinas is a God who has control over flames and protects people in Blacksmithing. He’s also known for hospitality and hearths in ensuring they never harm mortals.

Umbra the Goddess of Shadows: Umbra is known for bestowing the Shadow Elves with their abilities when Maaos could not. She’s also the daughter of the late Krolenta and has her right wing Shadow Phoenix, Nite, at her ‘command’ and the wife of Umbra the Goddess of Death.

Laeyr the God of War and Battle: This God is known for watching over those during times of wars and battles. He either assists them in fights, take those who have perished off to the side to let Morrigan and her crows deal with them, and gives advice on how one can proceed against an enemy.

Morrigan the Goddess of Death: Morrigan the Goddess of Death and her crows are known across Bolyra for collecting souls. Or in rare cases bodies and souls of the deceased, if they don’t have loved ones to perform death rites. She’s also the wife of Umbra the Goddess of Shadows.

Other Worshipped Deities:

Cyresis the Lunar Oceanids' God: Cyresis and his people, the Lunar Oceanids originally lived on a water planet called Tamesis, but after an invader species called the Cirein-cròin, a destructive silverfish like being that can grow into monstrous portions as it feds on people and wildlife, came and tainted the pure waters, which forced them to flee. While attempting to find a new home, Auna the Goddess of Waters of the Kaeyama, offered them a home at the Eternal Abyss, the Rosecier’s River, and the other various water locked areas. They agreed as they promised to assist her in keeping the world’s waters pure as a deal.

Nephayh the Goddess of the Desert: Nephayh resides in the Grim Desert at a Temple on the outskirts of Taedmorden and used to be worshipped by a group of tentacle-faced people called the Desert Dwellers. But after their corruption at the hands of those of illegal brainwashing magic, she just roams the halls of her temple to keep intruders away who attempt to bring back the Twin Goddesses. Since her temple is a portal to the highest Punishment Realms.

Ra’sa the Tigris’ Goddess: Ra’sa is known to outsiders as the Goddess of Revenge as she punishes those who do terrible things to the Tigris. She’s also known to bestow spells that are considered illegal across the Kaeyama. But to the Tigris, she’s called Their Protector or Mother to some.

Anurnel the Divine Spirit of Love, a Forest Elves’ deity: Anurnel is a Divine Spirit who goes by they/them pronouns and keeps an eye on the growth of the Shaenathaes Forest along with Anise and her Spirit Animals. They are also worshiped by the Forest Elves for happy loved ones, crop growth, and family.

Deities who have passed, but still remembered and worshiped:

Krolenta the Goddess of Shadows and Death: Krolenta is a Goddess who hails from Helina and was highly respected as well as worshiped in her time. She’s also the mother of Umbra and Firn, who is a Shadow/Ice God. Krolenta is still worshiped by small groups in Helina and is still widely worshiped in Namaru. Krolenta died along with her Shadow Phoenix Army, except for Nite, while trying to stop Aletha and Nephele’s fighting.

#writers on tumblr #blog post #blog #my writing #writers #amwritingfantasy #writingcommunity #blogger #fantasy #mythology #NightFoxProductionsWorld

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mythgirlimagines · 3 years

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Now that it’s Tuesday, a new Myth has been introduced to your inbox and soon, your blog! Give a salute to Myth, the Former Ultimate Police Officer!

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BACKSTORY AND TALENT

As a child, Myth has always had a strong moral compass and an even stronger sense of justice. With the push of her father, who happened to be in law enforcement, Myth studied hard and eventually graduated from the same academy that her father graduated in. Because of her age, gender, and the fact that her father graduated the academy with mere luck, many people at the academy doubted her skills. However, this is fueled Myth’s desire to succeed and prove them wrong. And that she ended up doing, for she wounded up apprehending criminal after criminal, and eventually attended Hope’s Peak as the Ultimate Police Officer. Even as a Former Ultimate, she still has a strong sense of justice and seeks to guide the Ultimate and Jr. Ultimate students towards the path of proper morality, and away from the path of criminal intent.

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Lifeguard

Having grown up around water as well as having a desire to be viewed as a hero amongst people, Wyre decided to become a lifeguard. Despite Wyre‘s rough and tough, delinquent-esque personality, Myth and Wyre are great friends. Myth met Wyre when she was little and she accidentally slipped and fell into the pool. Wyre ended up saving Myth and the two have been friends ever since, quickly bonding over their desire to assist and help others. Myth regularly disciplines Wyre just in case Wyre gets a bit too rowdy.

Outfit: A white tank top with ripped sleeves and a Red Cross on the front, the same whistle that Myth has, red and white swim shorts, tan sandals, regularly wet and droopy hair, swimming goggles on top of their head.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Toymaker

With a secret soft spot for children and an elaborate style of dress and speech, Scar is well-known for her dark and creepy, yet adorable toys. Although she is mostly known for her porcelain dolls in gothic lolita dresses, she is also known for her creepy-cute plush animals and hand puppets/marionettes. Despite trying her best to keep up the whole “Dark Overlord of the Amusement Realm” charade, Myth knows that she has a lot more in common with Scar at first glance. The two girls formed a kinship over their love of children, but not without Myth being christened “Blinding Overlord of the Judgement Realm”.

Outfit: A black and purple gothic Lolita dress with a black top hat, two bat hairclips on each side of her bangs, a pink and white eyepatch on her left eye, purple lipstick, purple gloves, black and purple stockings, black heeled boots, a pink and white coin purse.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Seamster

Having been raised by the Former Ultimate Beautician herself, Fusion Anon knows all there is to know about fashion and clothes. Fusion’s kind-hearted and paternal nature has made him a massive hit amongst the clients at the boutique run by both him and his mother. Despite Myth not really wearing much apart from her uniform, she can tell that Fusion puts his heart and soul into sewing and mending clothes. Fusion also had Myth model for a couple of his newer fashion lines, and needless to say, Myth was thinking of wearing them to the next formal event.

Outfit: A blue and brown sweater vest over a white dress shirt and a red bowtie, the same pants, socks and shoes from his original design, a black and brown top hat resting on top of his massive afro, bandage wrapped hands, glasses from original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Street Artist

Having been born and raised on the streets, Fusion II has taken to tagging buildings and trees with spray paint and adopted a sarcastic and flippant demeanor to go along with that. Fusion II was eventually nicknamed “Rainbow Rapids” by her neighborhood, for both her colorful and radiant artwork and the rapid speeds that she completes said artwork in. Myth and Fusion II have quite the beef going on, which is understandable, given their talents and backgrounds. Fusion II had bad experiences with cops and thus tries to steer far away from Myth at all costs, and Myth is intent on reforming Fusion II, no matter what it takes. Just how long could this cat-and-mouse game go, and who will come out on top.

Outfit: A grey hoodie splattered with different colors, black gloves, a black facemask so she doesn‘t inhale the paint fumes, a black belt with spray cans, black tights with a rainbow gradient stripe on each end, white sneakers.

Just Anon, Ultimate Intellectual Prodigy

Having been born with high learning capabilities and a massive IQ for his age, Janon wounded up acing aptitude test after aptitude test. Unfortunately, Janon’s natural intellect made him see no point in putting actual effort into anything because he knows that he would just ace it anyways, and as such, he is very lazy and apathetic to just about everything and everyone. Janon and Myth have a mutual dislike of each other. Janon hates Myth for her goody two-shoes, stick-in-the-mud personality and Myth hates Janon for his freeloading and vulgar attitude. Similar to Fusion II, Myth is desperate to reform Janon and spark that flame of interest inside his icy-cold heart.

Outfit: Basically what he wears underneath his original outfit.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Chess Player

Having garnered infamy for her eccentric fashion sense and loud and dramatic personality, Sparkle, or as she calls herself, “SPARKLE, THE SPECTACULAR STRATEGIST!” fancies herself as a regal army leader and the chess pieces as her loyal soldiers, even in the middle of tournaments. Despite that, Sparkle remains an intelligent and analytical prodigy, managing to dominate tournament after tournament with her strategic expertise. Myth may be confused by Sparkle’s flair for the dramatics, but she can’t help but appreciate Sparkle’s intelligence and strategic mindset.

Outfit: A black and white knight costume with a checker-board patterned cape and a prop sword, her hair in a side plait, glasses from original design.

Egg Anon, Former Ultimate Scout, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Security Guard

When Myth heard that the founder of the first non-binary scout troop and a masterful security guard would be attending the Kibo-Con with her, she was ready for morally upright individuals, much like herself. What she wasn’t expected were evil twins that dispense only the pinnacle of cursed thoughts. Despite this, according to testimony by others, they are more morally upright then their cursed drivel would suggest, so Myth can’t hate them. Wet Sock may or may not have growing feelings for the adorable police officer, but they know that Myth is a cop and wouldn’t have time for romance.

Egg’s Outfit: A tan scout outfit with a green sash filled to the brim with merit badges, glasses from original design.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: Black T-shirt, black headphones, black jeans, black loafers, dark sunglasses.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Private Investigator

With a calm and pensive attitude, Curious is the prodigal scion of a family of influential detectives. Even at the age of 12, Curious has wowed their clients day after day with their deductive skills and ability to bring the true culprit to justice. Because Curious’s parents and Myth’s father sometimes collaborate together as business partners, Myth actually knows Curious and they regularly work on criminal cases together. Myth and Curious both get along very well for their similar talents and justice seeking personalities, despite the age gap between the two.

Outfit: Their original outfit, but with the addition of a dark brown trench coat and lighter brown gloves.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Grave Digger

Because Nerd has to dig holes for the graves as precisely as possible, as well as having to look at dead bodies all the time, Nerd is cynical, high-strung and prone to exploding at unwitting individuals. Ever since Myth established dominance at the Kibo-Con, Nerd fell head-over-heels with this diminutive, yet dominant, police officer. But unfortunately, Myth is too put off by Nerd’s vulgar nature and short temper and too overworked to pursue a relationship with him.

Outfit: His original outfit, except with brown gloves and boots, as well as a black tie with a skull design.

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Tutor

Despite Eldritch‘s skittishness, Eldritch is really good at both leading a group and assisting others in their schoolwork. Eldritch originally started tutoring as a way to secure a scholarship to a prestigious university. While Myth likes Eldritch‘s mental fortitude, his social and psychical fortitude definitely needs work in Myth’s book. Myth regularly gives Eldritch confidence lessons that she learned in her police academy, in order to help Eldritch become more assertive and more trusting of others.

Outfit: A patchy brown jacket, a black turtleneck, blue jeans, black loafers, longer hair in a ponytail, fake glasses to look smarter.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Ghost Hunter

As the producer and star of the show “NRG Code”, Dream’s charisma, childlike energy and parkour stunts are more remembered by her fans than her actual incompetence at her job. Despite not finding a single ghost in her entire TV career, Dream is determined to find one at all costs. While Myth thinks that ghosts are just a bunch of supernatural bullhooey, Dream’s energy and hyperactivity are almost impossible to ignore. Dream actually took Myth along with her on a couple of ghost-hunts, so Myth can “arrest the criminal-ghosts”.

Outfit: A black puffy vest with a scary design on the back over an oversized purple sweater with black stripes on the sleeves, dark blue jeans shorts, knee-high black socks, white and red tennis shoes. Has a ghost vacuum strapped to her back.

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Competitive Eater

After trouncing many foes in multiple eating competitions, as well as breaking the world record for most mini-blueberry pancakes eaten in under a minute, Iris has also garnered fame for her mukbang channel “The Human Black Hole”. Even though Iris is adorable, Myth can’t help but feel concerned for Iris‘s health, considering how much Iris can eat in one sitting. Iris, being a massive fan of true crime, loves following around Myth and Curious and accompanying them in investigations. Although both Myth and Curious are wondering, where do the calories even go?

Outfit: A blue and yellow letterman’s jacket over a black shirt, glasses from original design, red bandana around her neck, gold medals from her eating competitions, light blue jean shorts, knee-high black socks, white sneakers, a blue baseball cap with a star on it, hair worn in two low buns.

Purple Anon, Ultimate Freelance Artist

Known under the internet pseudonym of “ultravioletprose”, Purple is renowned on the internet for her elaborate and complex digital art of whatever the commissioner wants her to draw. Unfortunately, although Purple is as cordial and polite in real life as she is on the internet, she is also avoidant of others unless a screen is separating them. Myth isn‘t much of an arts and crafts person, but even she can tell that Purple’s digital art are purely and simply masterpieces.

Outfit: A black hoodie hood-up with purple stripes on the sleeves, a black skirt, black and purple striped stockings and black Mary Janes.

This series will be focused on this headstrong cop as she tries her best to interact with others, while reforming a couple of misunderstood delinquents at the same time.

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APPEARANCE

As usual, Myth still has her glasses and undyed hair. Myth‘s brown hair goes down to her shoulders and curl up at the ends. She also has two star hairclips parting some of her bangs apart. On her head, concealing an ahoge, is a black and pink police cap. Myth wears the black uniform of her police academy, with a pink polo shirt underneath and white gloves. Around her neck is a grey whistle that she got from Wyre before being sent off to the police academy. Clipped to her belt is a black gun in a brown holster and grey metal handcuffs.

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PERSONALITY

In contrast to the laidback and flirty attitude of Romantic!Myth, PoliceOfficer!Myth is headstrong, hardworking, and has no time for romance to interfere with her fight for justice. PoliceOfficer!Myth is outspoken, determined, and definitely no pushover. PoliceOfficer!Myth uses her position as a police officer in order to protect the civilians of her hometown. But also she found herself working with children and juveniles, acting as a counselor and redirecting them towards the path of morality, which is why PoliceOfficer!Myth is so intent on reforming StreetArtist!FusionII and ChildProdigy!Janon. PoliceOfficer!Myth gets along the most with people of similar professions, such as PrivateInvestigator!Curious.

——————————————————- What do you think of PoliceOfficer!Myth? I’d love to hear everyone’s opinions on this AU!

-Fusion Anon

—

Interesting! My grandpa used to be a police officer, I think

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harmonytre · 3 years

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Comic Plans

Current Projects:

Prismtale (Mondays): An Undertale AU involving NPCs and multiverse travelling. Multi-chapter comic and ongoing.

Mistbreak (Tuesdays): A Steven Universe AU with about 5 pages left of the comic. Then it will become an ask/drabble/design blog.

Flicker of a Neon Soul (Wednesdays): An Undertale AU where monsters have colored soul traits and humans have white soul traits. 10+ chaptered comic with many plans and plot.

Taffy and Steven (Thursdays): A Steven Universe where Steven and his gem are split into different people and Taffy is a wholesome boyo. One page left of the comic, then will become an ask/edit blog with occasional comics.

Future Fandom Projects:

Pokemon Nuzlocke Comics: Multiple regions and an overarching plot. I need to finish playing and writing the first arc before starting the comic. (long term)

Who I Am: A Pokemon comic where James from Team Rocket is a were-pokemon. I need to rewrite it first. About 7 to 8 chapters. (medium length)

Other Undertale AUs: Certain AUs will be revealed in Prismtale and turn into side blogs, and others will be one time comics. (varies)

Future Original Projects:

(One of these I want to make extremely interactive. Like the audience makes choices for the characters.)

Phantulfurs: A comic about teens with powers to see creatures no one else can. I’ve rewritten the first chapter multiple times, but I need to really write it out before starting the comic. About ten arcs. (long term)

Skryculars: A sequel to the above story. (medium length)

The Journeyers: A multi-book series with my cousin. About ten books. Involves animals, powers, and romance. Won’t give information beyond that. (long term)

Unnamed Animated Series: Still need to design the two main characters, but they’ll travel through many worlds from my dream world. (long term youtube series)

Unnamed Wings Story: Decided many many characters for a high school story with wings. Lots of diversity and LGBTQ. Problem is I don’t like writing high school stories and have no plot. ;^; (medium? short?)

Unnamed Long Term Comic: A story about a space girl with wings, a nonbinary person that can shapeshift and communicate with animals, twins with water and plant powers, and an angsty wholesome skeleton bean. No plot yet. (long term)

Short Term (below the cut, any catch your interest?)

(keep in mind many of these I wrote the descriptions for years ago or based off of dreams.)

“Orphan Dog” and “Martha’s Pack” An orphan finds out she can talk to dogs and realizes they are the key to finding her missing parents. (Wrote when I was 8, rewrote partially when I was 13. So very cheezy. Would be even cheezier if I didn’t rewrite it, but still drew quality serious art XD.)

“The Agency” A girl named Jill has secrets. Major secrets. For one, she can turn into any animal at will including extinct, Fantasy, or hybrids. Don’t forget that she can also turn invisible and do telepathy. (Not to mention she runs an entire secret animal spy community…) When her best friend and spy ally, Izabella the opossum, goes missing, she must find what it means to be a true friend and showing that it’s what’s inside that counts. (Actually liked this one too. Even if it’s also cheezy.)

1. “Moos” A boy is adopted by cows and is granted the power to understand animals and turn into a cow.

2. “Moos: Vile Meat” Hoover is back and he must defeat the evil Haystack, a human entrapping calfs in little domes for eternity.

3. “Moos: Cold Cuts” Hoover finds a new ally, one who creates...snow?

4. “Moos: Wakey Wakey Eggs and Bakey” Haystack is back and Hoover and his friends must defeat him before he turns all pigs into stone. (Cheezy series?)

“Extraordinaries” Emma, her friend, Millie, her brother, Clark, and her dog, Charlie, have to travel to a faraway land to save Emma’s mother, who has been poisoned. Along the way Emma and the team must find how to deal with their newfound powers of Imagination. (This one was also pretty good! A story from Nanowrimo a few years ago.)

“The Hummingbird Did It” A hummingbird turns a lazy boy into a dog. The boy must venture across country to find the cure. (Was kinda boring and just me having fun with google maps lol.)

“Sunshine and Rainbows” A girl is taken to another world by rainbow dust and must find her way back to Earth. (Can’t actually remember this one.)

“Nature’s Lifeforce” A boy and girl are given the power to turn into any woodland creature and talk to trees. (Also can’t remember, but sounds cool.)

“Ravens” A girl named Hannah, a boy named Billy, a boy named Cameron, a girl named Lyla, and a boy named Clark, among other students, have their wishes come true. This creates a problem as Cameron becomes a dog, Lyla becomes a cat and Hannah and Billy become ravens. They fix the problem for everyone except Hannah and Billy, but embark on an adventure to find the scientist who can help them. (Based on a dream, I think.)

“Dragon wings” Hiccup and Toothless accidentally sit down someplace weird. They switch bodies and Toothless claims to have heard someone press a button. (ASDFGHJKL WHAT?! HTTYD short story)

“Melody Dreambubble” A weird new pony arrives in Ponyville. Twilight is curious to find that she has no Cutie Mark, was raised by wolves, and bears mysterious powers. (My Little Pony, kinda self insert, short story)

“Eyes of Gold/The Tower” A Fan Fiction based on The Ever Afters series and two stories rolled into one. Rory finds that her two best friends have been poisoned by a new dragon species/As Rory is about to enter a tower to save Chase a random girl shows up out of nowhere and has a weird habit of annoying Adelaide. (Was my first ever self insert? And based on a book series unlike the rest? Cool! Oh I even wrote ten whole pages! Neat. Featuring a girl chasing a dragon with a bedpan!)

“Roadkill” A man purposely runs over a deer on a freeway. The deer’s best friend curses the man, later to regret it because he has to undo the curse himself. (Lol, this was interesting.)

“Melissa and Steven Started a Food Fight” A completely random book that takes the characters through an adventure of explosions, unicorns, and talking squirrels. (Used a random prompt generator. Very random. And funny.)

“Before it’s Gone” A snooty teen crashes in her car and finds a surprise when she wakes up. (Oh yeah, another old story. She turned into a dog and none of the other dogs believed her.)

“The Unicorn Killer” A short story about poachers and Julia. (Yep. Short story.)

1. “Feathers of Gold” A logical young bird griffin, Gabriel, wants to find a way to stop to war between bird and lion in his land, Genetica.

2. “Scales of Emerald” A shy young dragon, Emmie, tries to keep her land, Reptilia, from destruction.

3. “Hair of Crystal” A brave young unicorn, Crystal, tries to find a way to join together the leaders of the land of Equinsta.

4. “Flames of Ruby” A vain young phoenix, Flaxter, tries to capture the eyes of girls. Taken place in the land of Flamia.

5. “Gems Unite” Gabriel, Emmie, Crystal, and Flaxter find out they are The Gems, the only ones who can save their world, Animagicia, from the beings, called Humurns, that are trying to destroy it. They must come together and find who they truly are. (Might have fun with this series. I’ve always loved mythical animals.)

“The Distance from Sam” An 8 year-old St. Bernard named Barry, a 3 year-old Golden Retriever named Mick, and a 1 year-old Sheltie named Sandy set off to return to their owner Sam, after being kidnapped and sent across country. (Kinda like Homeward Bound. Came in mind when I saw these three dogs alone by a street, no humans around.)

“The Skilled” Andy and Ashley(both fifteen) and their eight year-old siblings, twins Alex and Alexa, gain powers from the sewers. All: understand animals and fly, Andy: talk to toys, Ashley: speak to plants, Alex and Alexa: psychic powers. “I used to think my toys would come to life when I was gone. I guess I was right.”-Andy. Based on a dream. (Too many “A” names, oof. Also, toy Story much?)

“The Moon’s Eye” A teenage girl named April gets trapped under a snow drift and wakes up to be a wolf. A nearby wolf pack needs her aid and calls her The Mooneye, a changeling. (Cool. Cool.)

“Unusual Forces of Omnipotence” A woman and her horse are supposedly crushed by a U.F.O. When Tanaya wakes up she finds out she has super strong senses and can run as fast as her horse. Pluto the alien knows he’s going to be in trouble if his planet finds out he crash landed and accidentally gave a human the powers of her horse. He tries to fix it. Told from Tanaya, Sunray (the horse), and Pluto’s point of view. Based on a dream. (Sounds interesting! Title came from before I knew UFO was an acronym lol.)

“The Lawn” Unknown to humans, a yard full of statues come alive at night. There is an elk, two bears, four buffalo, a wolf, an eagle, three horses, a small boy, a moose, a bighorn sheep, and a rabbit. (Based on a real lawn I’d see on the way to school.)

“Dragon Eyes” Max has an ordinary life, until his family, him, and his three friends, Alice, Peter, and Samuel, are transported to another world. His parents are then kidnapped and they have to fight against an evil Mother Nature. Based on a dream. (Interesting. The dream was freaky.)

“Sweet Treat” Emily’s dad works at a candy factory, and one day she visits him and realizes his work is not all it seems… Based on a dream. (What? I don’t remember what was different about his work???)

“The Flight of the Supernatural” Randy thinks he is mostly a normal kid. Sure, he and his dad live inside a mountain, and sure, some flying species of human killed his mother, that doesn’t mean he can’t live normal life homeschooling and watching TV. But unfortunately, Randy’s life turns around when he finds out he can fly. Is his father telling the truth? Did his own species kill his mother? Based on a dream. (Actually REALLY loved this story.)

“Whispering Willow” A girl named Willow helps 20 wolf cubs escape a pet store and then is recruited by a zoo. Pretty soon all of the animals know her as Whisper. Based on a dream. (Cool. another animal whisperer.)

“The Invasion of Our Minds” Little black aliens invade Earth and only one person can stop them: Julia. Based on a dream. (Oh RIGHT! Yeah I remember that.)

“The Marble Island(Possibly a short story?)” Julia goes on a trip to a new marble island only to find the owner turns people into stone figurines. Based on a dream. (Links to the previous story, I think.)

“Have some candy!” Violet, an expert on strange occurrences, needs to help a group of people who mysteriously turned into animals after attempting to grab candy bars from a bin in a local store. Based on a dream. (More animal transformation.)

“The Guide to Mythical Creatures I Made Up” A guide to everything from the Mystic Melody to the Gollan. (I don’t remember either of their designs! :P )

“Trying to Get Back to Mom” Michael and Annabelle meet new friends, while they frantically try to reunite with their mother. (Don’t remember.)

“Surprise of the Future” Pearl travels to the future and has to fight her now-evil brother in his stone mansion. (Not Pearl from SU. Based on a dream.)

“All for You” A man has to overcome many obstacles, such as mermaids, yellow smoke wolves, and magic maps, to save the world and his girl. (Oh yeah, this was a cool one. Based on a song, but I can’t remember which one.)

“The Stranger at the Door” Keith and Amber have lived with their grandmother for many years, but now they live alone and nobody knows. Then a strange girl arrives at the door. She claims they will have to leave town within 2 hours or risk being stuck in a quarantine zone. There will be traffic jams and other hindrances, so it's best to leave right now without taking anything with you. Unsure about everything, including this strange girl, the teenage boy disagrees to the proposal, if all this turns out to be true, this choice will seem foolish. His younger sister does agree. But what if this strange girl can't be trusted. Or what if all this is an elaborate trap. How could an ordinary teenage girl and boy end up in a situation like this. Time to find out. (Oh, a quarantine story? How long ago was this? 2017 I think.)

“The Beginning of the Hybrid Brothers” A backstory that shines a light on how Ralph the Rat-Man and Dr. Discord came to be evil. (YES, MY TWO VILLAINS NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT BUT ARE STILL DEAR TO MY HEART HNNNNNNNG.)

“Unnamed but same as the blank” A girl named, _____, lives in a family of nine. She and her mother are the only ones who aren’t “Morhumals”, or people who can turn into one animal. After the twins mess-up and send a “Morhumals” hunter after them, it is up to ___ and her sister, ____ to rescue them.

“Song of the Siren” ____ is back after her fourteenth birthday. She finally has received her animal and must follow her family to the mythed Siren hideout.

#story #comic #HarmonyTRE #comic plan

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mikunology · 6 years

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Mikunology File #6: Kagamine Rin

OK, to make up for the lack of Halloween fanart, I decided to try and actually get out a new Mikunology File/Info Post! It’s been a while, anyway.

So, like the last Mikunology File about Miku, this time we will be talking about Rin, my personal favorite and our token lancer! Strap yourselves in, folks, because BOY do I have some headcanons for this character.

Info under the cut! (WARNING: Lots of ranting. I’m very passionate about this one.)

So, about Rin--Rin is the second-in-command and main muscle of the team, as well as one half of the Character Vocal Series Model 02 (designation CV02-R) opposite her twin brother Len. With her brother, Rin unwittingly starts the more actiony part of Vocal Android’s plotline by completing her road roller transformer mecha, and joins her “sister” and best friend Miku on her musical journeys across Japan and the globe. Rin often finds herself getting more into trouble as a heroine rather than just a Vocaloid due to her thirst for adventure, but is just as important as Miku in the grand scheme of the premise.

Personality/Portrayal

I’ve also made little notes about Rin’s personality on this blog before, but let’s get more specific, shall we?

Let’s start our description of Rin with a description of her by Len: Rin is like the sun, essentially. She’s big, and bright, and warm, and fiery, so much so her light tends to blind people. Rin is cheerful, grandiose, and absurdly energetic, with a constant desire for excitement and thrills. She has a skip in her step and a flame in her eyes, and she’s not afraid to go and show the world what’s she made of, whether it wants her to or not. You could call her more than a little abrasive. But she’s pretty silly, mischievous and non-serious most of the time, especially compared to her always-serious brother, and really, all she likes is to have fun and spread her music. She’s also quite the hard-worker when something catches her fancy, but otherwise she’s a lazy bum--her attention span is very selective.

However, Rin is one of the most notably flawed characters in the main team, for more than a few reasons. Rin is quite self-assured and proud to be herself, but she can be quite selfish, prideful, and arrogant, often getting too caught up in being “the star” or “the hero” to the detriment of the rest of the team. She’s very much fueled by emotion and drive and tends to go too far with things, even if her intentions were initially harmless, and she acts before it even occurs to her she needs to think first. And while her stubbornness and refusal to give in can be one of her best qualities, she tends to ignore warnings about the consequences of her actions, and sometimes only focuses on herself and what she wants over what others want, even her brother. There have even been times where she’s been unabashedly rude to Len, as rare of an occurrence that may be (that usually ends with her regretting it).

Though, while Rin may not be perfect and do the above things listed, she does try her best to learn from her mistakes and fix them, and then go on to try to do better. As much of a ball of fire she may be, she usually tries to use her stubborn warmth to help people, as while she can get caught up in herself, she shares Miku and Len’s dislike for seeing others unhappy. She always stands up for herself and her friends and family, and if you give any of her loved ones heck on her watch she won’t hesitate to defend them. She absolutely refuses to be pessimistic or hopeless (or let anyone else be that way), and would rather fight for her world rather than stand down and let others take it. She’s very much headstrong, and deep down inside, very much a loving soul.

Abilities

Since they’re from the same series of androids you can look back to Miku’s post for some of Rin’s basic abilities (her singing voice, flight, durability, download, etc.) but here I will describe the ones Rin has to herself.

Super strength. Unlike Miku, who is more a jack-of-all-trades in the combat department, Rin’s more prominent specialty is her immense strength, from a source currently unknown. While her strength hasn’t been measured exactly quite yet, to give you an idea, Rin was capable of nearly smashing in her own road roller when it went haywire.

Shockwave clap. A technique Rin learned by playing around with audio allowed her to use her strength and amps to perform a shockwave clap as a backup for her voice. It’s super effective!

Technological prowess. While Rin tends to be a little lazy about it, Rin really knows her machines. Along with the modification of her road roller, Rin is talented at fixing and modifying vehicles and other engine-run machines of similar caliber. She also knows fairly well about robots and is capable of tinkering with simple ones.

Musical prowess. Of course, though compared to Miku, Rin’s greatest instrumental strengths are with guitar (especially electric guitar) and grand piano.

Equipment

Rin is very much big on equipment compared to the rest of the team, even Len. Mostly because, who doesn’t like messing around with cool weaponry all the time? Plus, she usually knows how to handle it best next to Gumi and Meiko. This list is open to change as I come up with ideas.

Her arm sleeves. Like Miku, her most common piece of equipment next to her trademark headphones and hair ribbon. They’re computerized and allow Rin to access all her song data, information, voicebanks/libraries and system menu. She can also video call via hologram with it, and record sounds with it.

Her headphones. Rin’s headphones function most often as normal headphones and a secondary on/off switch. They can also function as a sort of audio-based walkie talkie, letting Rin contact her siblings and the other Cryptons.

Road roller (aka “Josephine”). Rin’s special Yellow Car, the great, the terrifying original road roller “borrowed” from a nearby construction site. Rin has specially modified it to go faster than your average road roller, thus making it the perfect flashy transporter for her and her brother. She also edited it to be a Transformer, pretty much, becoming a pilotable mecha with various functions.

The Rinmobile. A secondary method of transport created by Rin, a small motorbike outfitted with a small version of a road roller’s front wheel and a couple of other adjustments. Rin rides it when she needs quick (and not as flashy) transport across town when not carpooling with the others.

Bonus Headcanons

Rin’s bow tends to emote with her.

She is described as tsundere.

Rin has a special place in her room filled with orange-themed collectibles, like hackey-sacks, bean bags, orange candy, toys, and the like. Rin calls it her collection, Len calls it her “orange shrine”.

She loves Pokemon games. Unsurprisingly, her favorite is Pikachu.

Her absolute worst fear is losing Len, especially because of something she did.

She draws manga of her own adventures in her off time. She’s hoping to be able to publish it.

She’s really good at making sweets and desserts, but not so much at regular meals.

Inspiration Songs

Some songs I used to help characterize my Rin are “RING×RING×RING” (especially this one, it’s basically my Rin in a nutshell), “RinRin HIGH MIND”, “Sweet Magic”, “Bucchigiri ni Shite Ageru”, “I Like You, I Love You”, “Do RinRinRin”, and “Princess Cowgirl Show”. For anyone curious, of course.

#mikunology files #kagamine rin #vocal android #vocaloid #my headcanons #i return with more lore #if this one isn't as good it's because i'm sleepy

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 4 years

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/scorpio-the-master-transformer/

Scorpio ~ The Master Transformer

By Jeri Svenson

It has taken me some time to feel into what topic to write about today and at what depth. Usually when it is time for me to write a post, I focus on an image that represents what has happened to me personally during the week. There are multiple levels, or shall I say more precisely, multi-dimensional aspects of my life that I observe at a given moment. There are, of course, the physical aspects of day to day living. We can all relate to these activities. People of course feel a connection when they read about what the girls and I have been busy doing and the conversations that take place. When an image comes to the heart; a specific moment that I can describe in words, then the writing starts to flow, because I have anchored in a starting point.

This week, however, I have had an internal battle, which aspect of my processes do I share with you? I feel that I have now graduated from this grief school. When thoughts of the past take me away from the present moment, I bring myself back with awareness. I have not felt triggered by memories, nor had feelings of aloneness this past month. I have felt re~connected back to Neale, and back to Source energy (Mother God), as both accompany me with love in every breath. This is how much my inner space has shifted. So writing about the magical day we had in Dunkeld on Tuesday (5th of May) to honour Neale’s anniversary of passing with a simple ceremony of scattering his ashes, is equivalent to sharing my process on a very superficial level. I have moved beyond this physical aspect and ready to share with you my inner world of soul awakening.

Those who follow astrology will know that the full moon we experienced on Thursday the 7th of May, was a Super moon in Scorpio. We are highly connected beings and even if we aren’t aware on a conscious level of the energies that are coming in from the cosmos into Earth during a full moon, these energies have a massive impact on our energetic systems as well as emotional wellbeing. I was not that interested in western astrology before, as I was always fascinated by the 5 Elements that Neale studied and felt more connection with the revelations of Chinese numerology. But since I had my 5-D astrology reading earlier this week where I was made aware of the hidden gifts my soul wanted me to discover in this lifetime, I have become more curious about what astrology has to offer in teaching me about my purpose here on this planet.

My star sign is Scorpio, and it turns out, scorpio is the most powerful zodiac sign when it comes to attracting the hardest experiences and mastering its transformation. Essentially, the Scorpio sign is all about depth, hidden truths and transformation. Read more about it here (Super Full Moon in Scorpio).

The full moon energies have gotten very intense for me over the last year and I often have trouble settling into sleep resulting in a restless night. Since I had my spiritual (etheric) surgery, I have become more consistent with certain spiritual practices, for example full moon ceremonies. Burning ceremonies is something that I have done in the past but haven’t done so on a consistent basis. This type of ceremony is about acknowledging aspects of ourselves that still remain unresolved. It could be past trauma, relationship issues that we have not dealt with, anything that could be draining our energy or perpetuating ego attachments. These issues need to be released. I have always found this ceremony to be a powerful way of releasing and cleansing my energy field. When I have performed this ceremony in the evening before sleep, I find myself sleeping better during full moon energies.

We have such a deep collective wound around grief. Through many incarnations we have experienced countless birth and death cycles. So how could we even start to fathom the possibility that we can experience eternal life right now in our physical form? For a long while now, I have followed the Law of Attraction movement where the basic principle of like attracting like, I have applied in my life. By setting intentions as well as goals and focusing on them, I have manifested many positive outcomes into my physical reality. What I have discovered recently was that I wasn’t dreaming big enough. I mentioned in a previous blog how I wanted to manifest a new Earth full of possibilities beyond my wildest dreams. And this dream includes ending all suffering, illness, and disease. It also includes the disclosure of hidden technologies that create free energy, freeing us from slavery and bringing us back to our original sovereignty as essences of God. This will naturally end the birth and death cycle for good.

These concepts are not new. Native people’s prophecies have known about the great awakening for a very long time. Religions speak of the second coming and restoration of heaven on Earth. In the spiritual circles, the time we are in, is known as, The Event. So the question is, what role do I play in all of this?

When I was 15 years old, I remember sitting in class and the teacher was asking us what we wanted to do after high school. I knew that I wanted to be a psychologist and help people. I envisioned myself as a practitioner sitting in front of a child and the child didn’t have many words to express themselves. I had a vision of engaging this child through play, building a set of colourful blocks, little by little, each session adding one more block to the structure. In this way, I could feel into the child’s world as they built a certain structure in front of me. They didn’t have the trust or confidence to speak at the beginning, but eventually, through the therapy of play, they would open themselves up to me.

Although I have never formally pursued clinical psychology, I have always been passionate about helping others, especially in seeing aspects of themselves that motivate them to acknowledge or explore their feelings in more depth. I have felt more and more connected to this healer aspect of myself. During my astrology session with Aurora (thank you Aurora!), she confirmed to me that I have had many past lives as a healer. This makes sense and why my connection with Neale was so solid. Neale always said that I had healing hands, and he advised me not to take any formal qualifications on massage or healing, as I naturally had this capacity. I feel that this part of myself is what I have to offer others as we transition over to New Earth.

My astrology chart also shows that I am a powerful communicator. Something that is holding my evolution from progressing though, is not speaking my whole truth. Mercury is in my first house and this sign is all about outwardly expressing myself, to be heard. I recognise that I am a powerful communicator but I still hold back because I have a deep programming (as many of us have) of pleasing others and not rocking the boat.

To honour my role in this ascension, I am committing to speaking my truth with confidence. This means I will be sharing more information through this blog of what the purging of the darkness through this pandemic is all about, and its connection with God’s divine plan (of which we are all a part of). As more and more people experience their own individual awakening, what they are now realising is that this pandemic is actually a scam…and more importantly, that God is a woman.

The power is within you.

It’s time to rise up.

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twinflameshardcore · 7 years

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The Sun had spoken again - 33 Pisces Virgo

Ladies and gentleman, it has begun! According to my channelings, there’s a rise of the proper, max love energy coming from the Galactic Central Sun, the Galactic Heart, through our Sun. I feel it as an increased flow of love, inspiration, easiness, and pleasure crawling down from my heart into my solar plexus.

I’m very connected with the twin, the heart communication is joined by the third eye’s activation, and the minds are also attuned. We also talk at times and we love each other much more openly than anytime before, online (LDR). Fears of showing and receiving feelings of love and care are gone. We gaze at each other on a cam just as in the beginning, with a difference that we don’t shy away after a few seconds Even the look of ourselves in an additional little Skype window doesn’t distract us. He had matured while I have less ego issues, expectations, survival impulses but more understanding that everything had been planned above to favor this relationship, to give us the best, to make us together to stay in this lifetime, just as every other true twins should get. I stick to patience and I detach from any incoming triggers of the evil energy which are less and less effective. They have no more power over my mind. Because it’s been always the brain, as the heart knows the truth and remains confident. We just gaze with love and passion - we know we’re both worth of gazing. I somehow know that September it’s his time to awaken more (he told me he didn’t have any channelings or other spiritual experiences so it looks it’s only me being hyperactive and learning about my angelic, galactic & Earthy past since 2014). For me, this is the time to enter then root into the new and better! I believe all what I have done so far will be rewarded with that what I need the most. I’m so excited as I didn’t suspect it’s coming that soon.

Now, why I’m writing here on this blog again. Watch the Sun! Some of us come from the Galactic Central Sun, I’m confident I do. Our Sun is the most important star to me as I cannot stand cold and darkness. So I talk to the Sun and I observe it. I take notes when I receive impulses to look at a clock and then I know the Sun (or some other unmonitored star here which I’m also connected too, like Betelgeuse or Eltanin) made a flare. I check results on a few websites which report solar flares and I compare. In most cases hours and minutes match together. I was hoping for X-flares when I noticed there was a sudden activation of the sunspots 2 days ago. And here we go, X2.2 followed then by X9.33 today on 09/06/17 (=16=7, I was born on 16th)!! This is big time. It is also accompanied by G3 solar storm which (somewhat badly) effects all living beings, the head, and the heart. It’s a level when the satellite communication can blackout. Or rather the black - out, the darkness out of here!

How strangely, it’s happening during the full Moon in Pisces too (I’m Pisces/Aries). The number 33 is very meaningful here as well. It’s assigned to alchemical symbols of water and fire, blue/indigo and red/orange (a triangle symbols turned up and down), dualities, the year Christ was reported to die, and also I was born as number 33 :)) Thus when I saw the Sun was active so much on Sept. 4th, flaring up all that plasma at :33 minutes during the day (see screenshots below), I knew I am being called out to receive, that my soul has been receiving messages which only it understands for the time being but it’ll send decoded messages into the body’s systems next. And I felt so much of love, release, freedom in the solar plexus and heart that I know this is what most of us had been waiting for. I felt my twin and myself coming into my higher heart chakra today morning. It was amazingly open, I felt his joy, his satisfaction, his love. I was no more drained by low vibrations, the fog in the brain, and it was such a difference! I heard a little voice in my head asking to repeat: ‘I AM the Sun. I radiate’ to feel like the Sun next. So I repeated and for a moment I felt like the major star in our Solar System - unmovable, static, the highest where all others planets are bound to, where the Sun is loved, respected, supports life, transmutes with the extreme heat, powerfully releases the excess of its content, and is somehow related to Seraphim angels as well.

What I’m trying to tell here, today marks the very preparation of so called the Event which is related to love, not politics yet. I’m sure of it because I have connections with the Galactic Central Sun and I somehow knew this would start with the X flare after many months of silence. The silence before the storm, the good one!

Twin flames will play a big role here as we’re going to keep the grid of love, the new, powerful one which is above the old grid of abusive, hacked energy. It’ll be trying to restore itself but we need to hold steady to keep it (via being connected with the twin and loving them unconditionally, this is enough) so the old can dissolve and so we can spread and replace it with better values.

What’s more, areas effected by the areas on Earth which had absorbed the most of the big solar flare have been... the countries related to war and slavery to start from the area where Atlantis was said to be, Africa (Egypt!), then the entire Europe - Italy (Rome, Catholic religion!), and call countries affected by war, slavery and/or religion - Poland, France, Czech, Sweden, Germany, UK, Norway, Belgium and more, but also Brazil and Peru etc. All these places were affected by the evil energy which originates from Egypt and which was incorporated by the Roman Empire along with manipulative techniques of muting people’s heart connections and threatening the brains, killing good people (burning alive herbalists, shamans, wisemen, Cathars and healers called by them ‘witches’!) in the name of Christian religion and their big fake book full of distortions. I’m of the Dragons and I know the very truth but this is a topic for another post. In addition, I’ve discovered lately that I have strong connections with Andes and Inca (I was probably a shaman, an astronomer). When I had a look at the place on Google street view, poor Peru is all covered with crosses and churches, manipulation, enforcement, brainwashing! Damn the Crusaders-mercenaries hired by the Roman Church, you’ve stolen the spirit, the many beliefs and the gold too. We praised the Sun, the connection to the only source of Love and Creation! Today marks the beginning of the religions’ cleanup. We don’t need any religions. Bloody wars were brought by religions exclusively, by enforcing good, innocent people to take in what they didn’t want. What their hearts didn’t resonate with. What was feeding their brains with fear, dependance, enslavement, and confusion. The only love, forgiveness and wisdom are inside, in our own hearts. We don’t need leaders or god’s messengers.

Solar flares between September 4-6th, 2017:

(I’ve marked all timestamps which I’m prompted to see on any clock during every day, in random order as I receive impulses from the Sun).

We haven’t seen any X-flares since I believe 2015. The strongest ever recorded was in 2003 (X23). I was missing them as they keep me high, excited. They feed my inner fire, in tune with Mars’ passion. X9.33 solar flare has happened exactly during the full Moon in Pisces, the last and the most wounded zodiac sign as we - Pisces have given away, dedicated everything including ourselves so the Love, Peace and Balance could return. We were tricked and disconnected from ourselves. The most dualistic sign (the other is Gemini, Twins) has the duality inborn for the reason to understand it and stand against separation. To unite itself within, and unite others by generating the energy of balance and love. But what we kept is the ability to receive messages and energies from realities higher than this of the 3D. Thus the last who are usually bullied, misjudged, misunderstood, who are shy and isolate themselves from the world are becoming the first creators of the New-er World Order, where Oneness within and with all that is is the only option. Today we’re affected by the Sun which heals what had been damaged. The Moon acts like a download today and will purify everything which was damaged in Pisces and all other zodiacs too because today people are fragile, sensitive and accessible to the higher powers. Today everybody can feel what Pisces feel and understand why we live in isolation, why we hate crowds, why we’re so defensive when it comes to the environment - sounds, light, energy. Why we don’t participate socially. Because we’re so affected by everything that we’re sick of it and it disturbs our inner balance.

I’m also excited because this full Moon is my twin’s natal aspect while the Sun is in Virgo, and it’s a very opposition to my aspect. Which means that we’re upside down with each other thesedays. Alchemically, we’re fire and water, 2 triangles of a hexagram. He’s a Neptune-water person, I’m Mars-fire person, these planets were the closest to the Milky Way when we were born. Milky Way is the scar surrounding our Universe, it was sealed that way along the Milky Way once the Light entered between now Scorpio and Sagittarius constellations, then started bouncing against crystals with heat and noise creating more colors, more frequencies, more matter, more stars, planets etc. Like a stroboscope driven by one beam. In fact I’ve seen a pattern of 3 stars merged together in my mind’s eye on 09/4 and it flashed like a stroboscope then disappeared :)

The next thing is that on 09/16 Mars will have a close randez vous with Mercury, both are very influential planets in my natal chart (I’ve Mars in Gemini, Mercury is Gemini’s planet). They will communicate something to each other, either demanding or negotiating. Maybe I’ll learn what my most advanced self prepared for me -the human- to proceed with next.

On 09/21st, there’s a new Moon in Virgo, again, Pisces-Virgo opposition. I feel I’m going to go through the same upgrade like I had in February March this year, when the full Moon was in Virgo and new moon in Pisces (which also was a solar eclipse in Feb.) thus inverted to where it’s now and yet it’s 6 months later = 33, balance.

(From Stellarium program)

Then on 09/22 and 23th, during the autumn (and spring Down Under) equinox, a few major planets will align along with the Sun: Mercury, Mars, Venus on one side in Leo, but Jupiter and the Moon on the other, in Virgo. This sign will play an important role here. This tells me that the feminine energy (which agreed to do the hardest part in the TF relationship) will get a long awaited boost. Imagine an energy beam which as if initiated by Regulus, the major star in the Leo constellation. Leo and its natives got their vibrational ‘messages’ during the solar Eclipse. Next, the energy of Leo will spread it onto other planets and these, into people who are linked with these planets too - ex-Venusians, Mercurians, Marsians. The beam goes through all these planets, then though the Sun where it gets boosted again, then flashes into Jupiter (which is a radio-like planet) and the Moon, pointing towards Libra next.

Virgo represents stability, perfection, organization, being savyy, prioritizing an order of things and clarity, the family, often the love for children too but rather thanks to the traditional approach as as mother and/or wife, not a hippie. Negatively, they love criticizing (which is the ego stuff) and also a very strong self-criticism doesn’t let them shine either, despite of own talents, great memory, and always hard, routine work. Virgo works like an ant, is meticulous and has an eye for detail. Anything what Virgo does, its done perfectly, precisely, organized well too but then they won’t yell about it (unlike Sag, Gemini or Aries) so many people just won’t even know such a work had been done. Similarly, many people with the feminine energy (not just mothers, wives, lovers and employees but also many men who feel & understand like women) had been plotting silently, doing the hardest work for many years while getting no encouragement, motivation, applause or payment. They never liked the ‘comfort zone’ (or ‘comfort jail’) of the known and predictable but they were hoping that somebody could kick their ass and say - ‘Do something unusual, break the rules you’ve established. Go for a chance, the new, refreshing‘. Thus here come the full Moon in Pisces before the New Moon in Virgo, followed by a reward, from all other planets aligned and the Jupiter bringing abundance, opportunities, love, money, dreams coming true. I believe we’ll be getting noticed for the perfect job which the feminine energy had done so far on any levels, spiritually and physically.

Libra will then judge and equalize in late September and in October to give everybody a chance, encouraging - ‘Turn to love and harmony, we need that. Ditch war, unite the duality’. Then when we pass Libra and enter Scorpio in late October to November, here the revenge-loving warrior will vibrationally ‘execute’ those who remained attached to war, fear, dualities, patriarchy, matriarchy, religions, manipulation or anything which is not related to own self, own heart and peace. I don’t know yet what Sagittarius will do with that energy, but considering there’s the middle of the Milky Way near by, it may help remove those individuals who resist love as the only force out of the Solar System and open the ‘door’ to those who have been waiting to enter this New Earth behind the veil. They are our most advanced original versions, galactic families of many races, positive aliens, higher selves, you name it. Sagittarius is a man/woman of many contacts, it’s a human-animal hybrid too. Many of us were non-human beings before and this essence had remained in us waiting to be embraced and re-animated when the time comes. Then in December many of us who are ready and open, may have the first serious contacts with such galactic families, aliens, because our consciousness will expand drastically and we’ll be able to hear, see, detect, call, host, travel etc. We’ll be able to see and read with the 3rd eye, to navigate in many dimensions whenever we want, not only when the timing is right or when ‘under influence’. December may be also the very first month when a huge amount of love from the Source, (the original love we were basking in up there before we came down on Earth), will be processed by those twin flame couples who are ready to be conductors for it. Those who will not get fried :) I’ve volunteered to process it a long time ago because it feels like a fiery orgasm, so I’m sure I’ll be a part of it. Thus most possibly, this task will be done by Seraphim (here, here!), supported by all other highest ranked energies - Cherubim, Ophanim, healed djinns, healed 'fallen angels’, etc., any fire beings as these are the most capable to engulf themselves in ‘flames’ and fire up the new energy grid so the vibration can be delivered to others and stay within, bounced between the ‘conductors’.

From September to December, it’s also the time to draw yourself, your primal energies and attributes from elements. Draw the You from all 5 elements into your heart, solar plexus, root, your mind and the body. Draw your healed sexuality from water into your sacral chakra and the body (swimming, taking a shower etc), draw passion and courage from fire into your heart (ie. looking at flames), draw air (multi-dimensionality, versatility, wisdom) into your mind so the air could refresh it, draw earth (stability, peace, also money) into your root chakra so you don’t fear to receive from Gaia anymore as Gaia is mostly healed. Finally, draw from the aether - your divine, your I AM Oneness, all of your versions, your most advanced Self, your galactic essence as you’re one with everything that is around. Let the elements, your energies return to where they belong.

Twin flames who are ready, who learnt their lessons, got rid of the ego’s impulses, surrendered to love and understood why they cannot live without the other, it’s time to host our higher Oneness into our bodies and switch from the timeline of separation into the timeline of togetherness, permanently. We exist as One above in the other dimension and we stay in less or more realized contact with those separated, human versions of us below. Those above and those below are us (like reflected in a mirror- the horizon, anchored with hearts and heads). We above join our human bodies below once we ascend into 5D and 6D, a bit after bit. We fill our body and the twin’s with the self and the other. The galactic you returns to you. The galactic marriage as you are returns into you two. This makes us closer, and closer and finally One again here on the New Earth. It’s called the New Earth as it runs on the new grid of energy re-created by twin flames and light/earth/galactic warriors. Merging is a slow process and only the end of it goes fast. Most of this is handled by your soul. I don’t believe we can help it in any other way that just allowing the soul to run the show. Do not resist, do not sabotage your near future joy, because you want to exit the struggle incl. everything around, and once for all.

Now I need to rest. I got so exhausted being touched by so many solar flares and this channeling. Time will tell if I was right or wrong. Bye for now!

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#solar flare #x solar flare #twin flames #september full moon #Pisces #virgo #twinflames merging #predictions

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serenakbelieves · 7 years

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Blog Tour: Damnable Grace by Tillie Cole

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EVEN THE BROKEN, THROUGH LOVE, CAN FIND GRACE...Secrets never stay hidden.The burden of guilt never lifts from the heart.Born and raised in The Order of David, Sister Phebe knows nothing but cult life. Head of the Sacred Sisters of New Zion, Phebe was groomed from childhood for one purpose: to seduce. Prized as a harlot, as a New Zion whore, Phebe is taken from the doomed cult by Meister, the notorious leader of the Aryan Brotherhood. Taken as his possession. Taken to be the woman who will obey his every sexual demand. Under his heavy hand, Phebe finds herself in a place much worse than she could ever have imagined... with absolutely no one to help. And no glimpse of hope. Xavier ‘AK’ Deyes is content with his life as Sergeant-At-Arms of the Hades Hangmen. Leader of the infamous ‘Psycho Trio’ and ex-special ops sniper, AK knows how to fight. Experienced in warfare and schooled in military operations, AK is vital to the Hangmen. When his Vice President needs help retrieving his missing sister-in-law, Phebe, from a Klan-funded trafficking ring, AK volunteers to go in. AK remembers the redhead from New Zion. Remembers everything about her from the single time they met—her red hair, blue eyes and freckled face. But when he finds her, heavily drugged and under Meister’s control, her sorry condition causes him to remember more than the beautiful woman he once tied to a tree. Saving Phebe forces hidden demons from his past to return. A past he can never move on from, no matter how hard he tries.As AK fights to help Phebe, and in turn she strives to help him, they realize their secret sins will never leave them alone. Kindred broken souls, they realize the only way they can be rid of their ghosts is to face them together and try to find peace.Despair soon turns to hope, and damaged hearts soon start to heal. But when their deep, painful scars resurface, becoming too much to bear, the time comes when they must make a heavy choice: stay forever damned; or together, find grace.Dark Contemporary Romance. Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, disturbingly sensitive and taboo subjects, offensive language and very mature topics. Recommended for age 18 and over.

“Well?” Ky asked.Tanner ran his hand over his head. The brother hadn’t attended one of our cookouts or slutfests in weeks. Not that he ever entertained himself with sluts—still too hard for his piece of pussy down in Mexico. He’d been busy trying to track down Meister. Unlike most of the white-power shit Tanner and Tank grew up with, this Meister was untraceable and off the grid. As much of a computer whizz kid as Tanner was, Meister was proving to be one slippery fucking snake to pin down.“Gotta be honest, I didn’t think I was anywhere close to finding anything on this prick.” Tanner nodded toward Tank. “We knew of him, of course. I knew he had dealings with my father and uncle, just never met him myself. He’s Aryan Brotherhood, but works closely with the Klan. And there’s nothing on him. No email traces, no invoices, no texts. Nothing.”I gritted my teeth and glanced at Styx, who was listening closely. Ky wasn’t originally gonna tell the prez about the plan to get Phebe, because of his fucking wedding, but that didn’t last long. Styx knew something was up with his VP. He read him like I read Flame and Vike. So Ky fessed up, and Styx was all for the plan. He’d had to push his wedding back by a month anyhow to get the pastor Mae wanted to conduct the ceremony, so he had time to kill.“But you found something?” Ky translated as Styx signed.Tanner sighed, the black circles around his eyes showing how hard the brother had been working. “I got something.” He shook his head, and my blood ran cold. I knew whatever he had found wasn’t good.Tanner opened the file in front of him and threw a photograph toward the prez. Styx looked at it, then gave it to Ky. “Some middle-of-nowhere ghost town?”Ky passed the picture around. Vike handed it to me, and I studied it. It was an aerial shot, and the picture was grainy, but from what I could make out, it was just a huge piece of land scattered with decrepit old buildings.I passed the picture along. “Fucker owns this?”Tanner faced me. “Yeah, or at least his father did. He’s dead now, but the deeds are still in his father’s name. Been in the family for decades. Took me a while to trace it.” He shook his head. “Meister is notorious among the Klan. Right, Tank?”“Yeah,” Tank agreed. “Never met him either, but we’d all heard of him. Prick has been mobilizing for years for the race war they think is coming. Real serious, Oklahoma-City-bomb shit. From what we’ve heard, the guy has a one-track mind when it comes to advancing the white race. You think Hitler was fucked up? Well, imagine if he had a kid who was one built motherfucker, with a fucking carbon copy of his psycho mind; and you’ve got Meister. Fucker ain’t even German. Just wishes he was, spouting German phrases around like he’s born and bred Berlin. Delusional asshole.”“This ain’t gonna be easy,” Tanner finished, looking at me, Vike, Flame, Hush and Cowboy. It was the five of us who had agreed to go looking for Phebe. Hush and Cowboy nodded at me to let me know they were still in.“So he’s in this ghost town?” Ky asked, translating Styx’s sign language again. “If so, we’ll all just go in and get him, make the fucker talk and tell us where he’s got Phebe.”Tanner sat forward. “He ain’t just living in the ghost town or hiding out. That’s where he has his enterprise.”“Enterprise?” Ky echoed. It was his own question this time.Tanner nodded. “From what I can tell, it’s a fucking brothel. Members of the Aryan Brotherhood, Klan, or Klan sympathizers, can go there for a night or a few days at a time.” Tank shifted uncomfortably next to him. “Ain’t sure, but I’m thinking it ain’t just getting your dick sucked and fucked. It’ll be real fucked-up shit. If Meister’s reputation is anything to go by, we would be walking into an organized, armed hellhole.” Tanner’s eyes darkened. “I get the Klan has a reputation for being full of backward rednecks. I ain’t gonna lie—growing up, most of my father’s cronies were that way. Thick as fuck and couldn’t do shit without screwing it up. Skinheads, lower-ranked soldiers, you know?”“But there were some members that weren’t,” Tank continued. He cast an embarrassed glance at Tanner. “We weren’t, for starters.”Tanner nodded. “It’s not the norm, but some of us were good. Smart, strong fighters, or just outright fucking psychos. The skinheads and rednecks are the foot soldiers. The likes of us, the likes of Meister, are the fucking SS. The planners, leaders, the generals—the ones who believe in the cause so much that they’re fucking lethal with what they’ll do, what they’re capable of. Meister is true Aryan Brotherhood; he’s preparing for war. He’s the real fucking deal.”“And now he’s in our neck of the woods to stir up shit?” I asked.Tanner nodded. “Comes from northern Texas. Never moved our way before. But the Klan are building day by day, joining forces with other white supremacist gangs—like the Brotherhood—and with the shit that’s on the news twenty-four-seven, blacks and whites at each others throats, he’s moved to the headquarters.” The brother’s jaw clenched. “To my father and uncle, who’ll be protecting him from being found out by the feds.” He sighed and ran his hand down his face. “From what I can figure out, this ghost-town brothel of his has only existed in the last year or so. He’s looking to fund something.”“They ain’t dealing guns?” Cowboy drawled. “I thought that’s what Rider said the contract with the cult was for?”“Rider was sure it was guns. At least it was when he was dealing with the Klan—it was all about arms. The Klan was selling them on and taking a cut.”“His fucking twin,” Hush spat. “He changed the arrangement, didn’t he? When Rider was locked up in cult prison?”“Think so,” Tanner said after a few seconds of silence.“Then what the fuck are they dealing? What was Judah giving them if not Israeli guns?”“Women.”

Tillie Cole hails from a small town in the North-East of England. She grew up on a farm with her English mother, Scottish father and older sister and a multitude of rescue animals. As soon as she could, Tillie left her rural roots for the bright lights of the big city.After graduating from Newcastle University with a BA Hons in Religious Studies, Tillie followed her Professional Rugby player husband around the world for a decade, becoming a teacher in between and thoroughly enjoyed teaching High School students Social Studies before putting pen to paper, and finishing her first novel.Tillie has now settled in Austin, Texas, where she is finally able to sit down and write, throwing herself into fantasy worlds and the fabulous minds of her characters.Tillie is both an independent and traditionally published author, and writes many genres including: Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, Young Adult and New Adult novels.When she is not writing, Tillie enjoys nothing more than curling up on her couch watching movies, drinking far too much coffee, while convincing herself that she really doesn’t need that extra square of chocolate.

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aleorntheheirofcinder-blog · 7 years

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Summary of book one

I have moved from blogger to tumblr; the original blog is available at darksouls3fanstory.blogger.com. If you desire more than a summary can provide, feel free to visit!

Part one

Aleorn was an Ashen like any other: lost, forlorn, alone in all things. His Darksign was the bond of his servitude, and like many before him, he sought to erase it; for while it was the exultant glory of life everlasting, it was also the cold, cruel shackles that bound him.

He was not quite hollow – his gaunt yet human features attested to that – yet he strode nigh senselessly through the bitter realms, for his was a life neither lightened by purpose nor driven by hate, but something far different and altogether worse: empty. Aleorn has no reason to live, and therefore he drew breath, his heart beat, his eyes glowed with life, yet he was no more alive than a carving of stone.

Then, he found purpose and hope again, a fellow Ashen garbed in the golden raiment of the Sunlight covenant. Twice he appeared before Aleorn, yet it was not until the Cinder Lords lay slain that he offered to remain by Aleorn’s side indefinitely. Aleorn assented without pause, for this was a chance to again know friendship, joy, and meaning; and these were more valuable to him than all the souls in Lordran. The Ashen adventured for a time, laying low even the mightiest of foes, sharing cries of triumph, and laughter once forgotten. These days were the most previous of all,

and like all things that we love,

Fate was all too happy to destroy it.

Part One

There was about Or’do a strangeness, a mysterious feeling of wrongness that defied reason; his infectious grin and easy laughter quickly dispelled the notion, yet it was always quick to return. Aleorn forcibly ignored it however, for he feared more than anything the loss of his only friend.

Lords fell and worlds were conquered, yet of course nothing changed. Or’do, distant at first, grew closer, warmer, yet the darkness around him only deepened. Then at last he revealed his secret, his smile fading and eyes cold, shadow clinging to him in spite of the bonfire’s comforting glow.

“There is no point in all this.” He murmured, gaze downcast, studying the embers.

“Of course there is.” Aleorn knew his words were hollow; they fell cold and empty from his lips, how could they ring any differently in the ears of his friend?

“No, and not even you believe that. Each world is only a gateway to the next, every foe a marionette that rises again as soon as our back is turned.”

Aleorn sensed that Or’do was goading him, that there was a response for which he yearned, but one of which he could not speak.

What does he want? He thought, confused.

“The cycle enslaves us.” Haunted eyes locked with Aleorn’s. “But I know how to end it.”

Aleorn felt a surge of frost pour through his veins. “Why?! If you end the cycle, return the void that lay before,” He trailed off. “So many would perish.”

“Aye.” Or’do’s eyes darkened. “I thought you would say as much.”

“But countless more would suffer if the cycle persisted!” Aleorn blurted; he did not believe the words he spoke, yet he forced them past his lips all the same. At first he did not realize why he cast forth the lie, yet of course when he reflected upon this moment in the dark days that followed, he knew at once the reason for his deception: fear. Not of Or’do, but of losing him.

Through this world of pain and darkness he had long stumbled, despair consuming him, devouring with flame cold as ice. He was hollowed not by madness, but anguish, for there was naught but pain in this world bleak and grey. Then this warrior of Sunlight has risen from the stones, beckoned to another solemn hour, yet jubilant as if each step was itself a wondrous thing, that all in this world merited laughter and hope. Aleorn was stunned by this outlandish man; it was not for some time before he realized that Or’do was his impeccable twin – if in appearance alone. Perhaps in his desperation, he had created the very saviour for which he had so long yearned.

Perhaps Or’do created him.

That infectious laugh and easy smile was to him a light brighter than the Sun itself and thrice so warm. Even these few days had mended his soul, had given him back the hope he had for so long yearned. To lose Or’do was to become again that dark warrior who stumbled through endless war, raising his eyes to the heavens only when he wept.

He was a man enslaved, bound as much by friendship as fear.

“I owe the Flame nothing” I cannot become that man again “It stripped away my identity, made of me a mindless wraith.”

“True, yet if you quench the Flame, eliminate the Darkness, your darksign will fade, and with it so shall you.” Or’do did not meet his eyes as he spoke, seemingly ashamed or perhaps mistrustful.

“When the cycle ends, so shall thy life.”

“What I have no is not life.” Aleorn stared into his hands, as if there lay an etching of awesome profundity upon his palms. “I am lost, mad, besieged with despair.” He looked up, locking eyes with Or’do. “But you have given me something to fight for, restored the purpose I lost so long ago.”

“Then you would renounce the Flame?”

I cannot be alone again “Yes.” He murmured. I cannot endure the despair, the solitude. “I forsake the Flame, as it has forsaken me.”

“Good.” Or’do sounded relieved. “Then I’ve a task for you.”

“Name it!” Aleorn flinched. Not so eager he chastised.

“Return to your shrine, and slay its Keeper.”

Aleorn stopped short. “Why?”

“She is a servant of the cycle, exists to ensure its continuity; need you a reason beyond that?”

Yes “No,” He lied. “I merely wondered at the reason.”

Or’do softened. “I do not command you, Aleorn, merely pose a request; those can be denied, my friend. Yet until you slay her, you will be unable to gain the power I have.”

“You” Aleorn thought. Thy peculiar manner of speech has already begun to corrupt me; could this be another – albeit subtle – act of defiance against the flame? “How will her murder strengthen me when she is the means by which I glean nourishment from devoured souls?”

Or’do extended a hand, and upon his palm black fire curled, hardening into a ring blacker than starless skies, baleful as gleaming steel. “You like I have reached the pinnacle of Ashen might; no matter how many souls you offer, she can strengthen you no further. You are in her eyes a blade honed to perfection; yet if you take her soul upon yourself, I can teach you to unlock your strength without her.”

I cannot “Is her death necessary?”

“Yes. Without it, the cycle will not end, for your potential will remain forever untapped. And, since she serves the cycle, if she learns of our treachery, our progress will be at least slowed by her attempts to stop us.”

She was the first creature to smile when she looked upon me. Her kindness gave me hope, if only for a moment. “If such is the price of ending our torment.” Aleorn rose. I sought for so long to repay her, yet now I must end her life; how can I do something so deplorable?

“It is.” Or’do rested a hand on his comrade’s shoulder. “Slaying her is the first step toward freedom, the first riven link that causes the chain to fail.”

Forgive me. Aleorn’s heart turned cold, his eyes hard as flint. My fear is too great. He nodded, then placed a hand on the coiled sword’s pommel, willing himself back to the nearest thing he had to a home. As the world faded, he felt part of himself darken with it. It is for the best, he thought. My betrayal would pain her more than steel ever could.

***

Why do I toy with him? Or’do rose, not banished from Aleorn’s world even when he himself had left it. Why can I not bring myself to destroy him as I have so many others? Absently, he scratched at his left forearm where two dozen stolen Darksigns lay.

I am a child of void. He closed his eyes as if this alone would quench the cold fire devouring his heart. I exist to slay their kind, to end the cycle and return the reign of emptiness forevermore.[/i Fingers of iron clanked against his palm; nails nigging into his flesh. [i]So why does it pain me? He raised his eyes heavenward. Why do I hesitate? Black flames rippled along his forearm, fanning around his trembling fist, dripping like blood from his knuckles.

Why do I care for him? A flash of memory, cold anguish crushing his heart.

Or’do lying on the stones, his body crumbling, his Voidsign sheared in two. The Soul of Cinder towers over him, blade held out wide, edge slick with his spilt life. Fear siezed him, yet he could not muster the strength to do anything more than raise a trembling hand. He watched with dimming eyes as the Soul drew back to strike, its gaze impassive, deadly.

In desperation he cried out to the Void as a child screams for its mother; he felt the wounded Sign, seared by Light, corrupted with Flame’s smouldering brand, spasm and convulse, straining to answer his plaintive cry. His vision turned black, then became speckled with points of light like bloodred stars: fallen Ashen whose corpses had not yet faded. The glimmering blade swept down from on high, hissing through the air like a striking viper, trailing a mist of glowing embers that stared upon him in silent condemnation. Its chill edge bit flesh, its frost slicing through him and bringing with it a world barren, black, and cold.

He woke with a start, leaping to his feet, stumbling as the unfamiliar legs betrayed him. A body he had stolen, a vessel whose master had departed. Or’do raised hands that were not his own, and stared into their worn palms. Sorrow drove its fingers of ice and fire into his heart, tearing from him the last spark of hope. Already kneeling, he had not far to fall when he collapsed, and with last breath pleaded Death take him.

Leather creaked as Or’do clenched his fist, bones grinding, tendons straining. Blood welled around his fingertips, staining black cloth a shade darker still. In that moment, I cared not for the fate of any beyond myself, but I knew at once what it was like for all those I had killed. Agony keen and fierce smote him like a tide of shattered glass. I gave no thought to your fate, perhaps I believed your false life would end at my hand like so many before you. Even when I rose upon your legs, took a breath with your lungs, I felt not the palest shade of remorse. He straightened, forcibly casting off guilt’s leaden mantle. And that is how it should be.

***

The Shrine seemed dour where once it was welcoming; its darkness deeper, its Bonfire dim and fitful. Light flared from the pile of smoulder bones, and amid those radiant tendrils, iron suddenly gleamed.

Aleorn rose smoothly, Or’do’s ring shimmering upon his fingers, gleaming like spilled blood as he closed his hand into a fist; yet try as he might, he could not summon the hatred that once fueled him. Ten steps he took, each heavy as crumbling towers, his heart growing colder with each beat, his eyes darker with each thought that flickered within.

When I stumbled here, the Soul of Gundyr burning within me, I was lost and afraid. He knelt before her, hand raised palm upward. I knew naught but pain and cruelty. Luminescence pale and innocent as virgin snow blazed in his hand; souls without their sovereign, straining to answer the Keeper’s call.

Then I looked upon you, my heart dark and barren, my world a tempest of blood and steel. He looked up, breaking his reverent stance.

I flinched when you met my gaze, Aleorn closed his hand, rising calmly, slowly, a tidal wave whose langour belies its might. But you smiled all the same. His hands shook, the ring’s power screaming to be unleashed. My world became warm and bright again. He clenched his fist tighter.

But you are a servant of the cycle, the reason for my suffering. Aleorn called to the ring, and at once it responded: strength surged through him, thrumming in his veins like four hearts beating in unision.

The cycle ends here. His heart felt as though its would tear itself asunder.

She was the only creature in all my travels to smile when she looked upon me. He wavered, yet the ring’s power would not be denied. Before he registered the movement he had werathed his hand in black fire, and thrust it into the space between her breasts, ripping through flesh and bone with so little resistance it seemed he struck nothing mroe than air. She gasped in pain and slumped against him, features contorted in agony. Around his arm, upon her flesh, a strange symbol appeared: a halo of white that reached with wispy arms in all directions – the Voidsign, a brand that would end the Keeper’s life, and prevent her from ever rising again. She cried out, and sorrow overwhelmed him, freezing his blood, stealing his strength.

Both collapsed to the stones, Aleorn tearing his hand from her crushed chest, holding her close as life fled.

This is how I repay her kindness? Her breaths – shuddering and weak – misted against his breastplate. What have I done?!

He felt her trembling in his embrace, shivering like a withered leaf upon long dead branch. She slumped against him, slimp and frail, her face pressed against his neck, her skin pale and cold. Then he felt her lips curve into the same gentle smile that once brightened his world, yet now only thrust it deeper into darkness.

She struggled to speak, and while the words had not breath to grant them substance, they smote him as if wrought of stone: “I forgive you, Ashen One.”

Then she was gone, and Aleorn was alone with his despair. He held her lifeless frame until all warmth had fled, and even still he clutched her, his shattered heart cold and hollow, its fractures deepening with each labored beat.

He knew not how much time had passed before he rose, carrying her from the Shrine like an infant curled in his arms. In the same grave from whence he had risen, he laid the one creature whose death had ever pained him, praying that she would find a more lasting rest there than he had.

“I’ve sacrificed you, that I might grow stronger, that I would never again feel the agony of loneliness.” He knelt beside the makeshift tomb, eyes closed and tears glimmering on their fringes.

“You forgive me,” He buried his face in his hands. “But I can never forgive myself.”

***

When Aleorn returned, it was in a mantle of darkness cold and heavy as lead. If he was surprised to find Or’do waiting for him unbidden, he hid it well, for he merely fell to his knees at the bonfire’s side, and stared into its glowing embers.

“It is done,” He rasped. “The Keeper’s soul is mine.”

“It hurt, did it not?” Or’do’s words were soft, kind. He knelt at his comrade’s side. “Her death pains you.”

“Yes,” Aleorn whispered. “I’ve killed thousands, devoured entire nation’s worth of souls, yet her death,” His voice broke and he turned plaintive eyes upon his companion. “Why does it torment me?”

“Because she was kind where so many were cruel. In a world bleak and dark, her smile was a breath of warmth and peace, a solace fleeting but no less lovely.”

“When we stride on to the next of these countless worlds, we shall find there another precisely as she was.” Aleorn wrung his hands, gaze haunted. “Her loss is temporary.”

“Strange, is it not?” Or’do rested a hand on Aleorn’s shoulder. “Flame sustains us, yet lies still burn our mouths.”

Aleorn looked up, confused.

“There will always be more Flames, and Keepers to attend them; yet none can replace what we have destroyed, not as she was. Our lonely hearts clung to the hope she represented, and any other bearing her face, speaking her voice, will be more insult than comfort.”

“Then why did we destroy her?!” A flash of light in his weary eyes. “Why did you demand that I take her life?”

Or’do merely gestured to the obsidian ring. “You have taken her soul, have you not yet used it?”

Aleorn shook his head. “How could I?”

To this he received a knowing nod.

“The pain will fade. You have done what was needed; pray claim thy reward, lest it wither forgotten.”

Upon his finger the ring gleamed, eagerly awaiting his decision, seeming to grow warm against his flesh, as if it were a thing alive, furious and desperate, struggling weakly. Indeed, he felt a faint pulse from it, light as the Keeper’s final breath. Sorrow washed over him once more, and he crumbled beneath its suffocating weight.

“I cannot.” He whispered. “Every time I try, I see her smile, watch again as it turns cold and still with death.”

“I understand.” Or’do silenced him with an upraised hand. “Torment yourself no more then.”

Aleorn nodded gratefully.

“Are you ready for one last fight?” Or’d asked, receiving a confused look by way of reply. “One last battle as an Ashen,” he clarified, “before you become something far stronger.”

“When I become that of which you speak, will I feel this agony still?”

“No, you will be consumed with unimaginable power, and in its razor edged tempest lose yourself if only for a moment.

A fist tightened in determination, a pall of darkness clouding once bright eyes. “Then let us be on our way.”

End of Part 1

Part 2

Aleorn smashed a fist of iron against a gaunt hollow, feeling its bones shatter like porcelain, its flesh tearing and sloughing away. The monster crumpled where it stood, dust fanning out from its crushed features, dark blood pooling around the ruin atop its withered neck.

“A potent blow” Or'do called; his resonant voice losing no volume despite the formidable distance it crossed. Or'do stood near the Dancer’s gate, hands cupped around his mouth to magnify his words. At the stairs’ end, where a secnod gate loomed, several hollows lay in scorched ruin, the force of Aleorn’s flows nearly severing their heads, the impact alone cracking armour of boiled leather, turning it and the body beneath into crumpled heaps that lay dark and melancholy upon the stones. “Yet you can do better.”

In the days since the Keeper’s death, Aleorn had not drawn upon her powers, at least not by conscious design. While he sensed not her strength, he felt his reservoir of souls diminish slightly with each blow. In an exchange of some sort, the Cinder within him flared with life and his attack gained cataclysmic force, yet the lives within him were burned away. No flame could burn without fuel, however, and the price was far outweighed by the reward.

I cannot do this. Aleorn nodded silently, sinking into a pugilist’s stance. On the ground before him, the slain hollow twitched, glowing from within as if a bonfire had been kindled among its ribs. Its chest exploded, flame and gore erupting as clawed fingers thrust forth, yellowed nails digging into the stones with sickening shrieks. Another hollow dragged itself into Aleorn’s world, drawn from one parallel by Or'do’s baffling power. Aleorn knew not how his comrade did this, and in truth, he cared little.

Her death has strengthened me. His fist crashed home, flattening the creature’s face with a reverberating crunch!

He turned dark eyes to the hill’s crest where Or'do stood, nodding his approval.

“Better still! One more, then we test thy newfound might upon a creature of more adequate strength.”

Aleorn bent in a half bow, unconsciously wreathing his hands in serpents of fire as he pivoted back to the many times reborn hollow. He wove fingers strong and cruel as steel into a two handed fist, and with its immense power staved in the hollow’s grey scalp before it had taken so much as a single step into its new world, a single breath of blood clogged air. It collapsed sidelong, thin wisps of smoke trailing from its seared flesh.

Without warning, the fog door vanished, recoiling as if burned, its absence revealing the broad, empty chamber beyond. Aleorn was quite familiar with the Boreal Valley’s Champion, Vordt; yet he was all the same caught off guard when in a whirlwind of polar fury lunged out of that chamber, falling upon Aleorn in a steel edged dervish. A reflexive swipe of his flaming hand flipped a rather surprised Vordt aside, hurling him against the far wall with terrible force. Yet even as his body shattered, the Lord was reborn, bursting frmo the ruin of his predecessor. Aleorn blocked the monster’s slashing mace - which dwarfed even the largest of men - upon his upraised forearm, twisting beneath and driving his iron fist between those eyes of arctic blue, crushing Vordt’s ursine features and freeing another twin from its cocoon of steel and bone.

Or'do looked on grimly, arms folded behind his back. Troublesome thoughts swirled like angered locusts caged within his skull. Slaying the Keeper was uneeded; even now her strength alone was not what fueled those cataclysmic blows. Aleorn could never learn of this deception; it would destroy him as now blade ever could.

Below, Vordt fell again, yet almost as quickly was in a geyser of gore and frigid wind born afresh. Each time he rose it was with greater strength; having been drawn from a plane parallel where stronger beasts dwelt.

As he observed the seemingly endless battle, Or'do’s mind strayed into ever darker reaches of the hell behind his pale eyes. Aleorn had wept, true sorrow clear upon his bleak features, yet it should not be possible; the mere fact he had returned defied logic. No Ashen was capable of slaying the Keeper however mad or apathetic they were; she would merely rise again, hiding well her disdain beneath a mask of concern. Yet there was no duplicity in Aleorn’s eyes; few Ashen pursued deception as it was, for what one desired could be taken by force more effectively than guile; the oft broken Patches attested to that.

“How?” He whispered. Even the Voidwalker’s band was noting more than a death sentence; the fatal blow Or'do could not bring himself to deliver. The ring permitted, or compelled rather, its wielder to etch the Void’s mark upon their foes, yet in so doing would excise the Flame’s brand. Aleorn should had fallen where he stood, severed from the Flame, his death as certain as that of a mortal deprived breath.

Unless he was already Voidborn.

“I tried to murder another Solitude Strider?” He felt a chill slither along his spine. “How did I fail to recognize one of my own kin?” Or'do asked the wind, yet he recieved an answer all the same, spoken in his own internal voice. Because he has not yet realized it himself.

Aleorn whirled beneath his foe’s mace, the air roaring, light dancing along its cruel edge. Flame seethed from his fist as pivoting still, he delivered a right hook that flattened the Boreal Gladiator’s face, his arm a blazing pillar, his eye cold and hard.

Or'do exhaled softly, his feature troubled. Initially, slaying the Fire Keeper was naught but a death sentence in the guise of a test of loyalty. This task however, was far from meaningless.

“Go on.” He closed fingers of iron around his forearm. “Show my thy true strength.”

Aleorn felt rage consuming him from within, its searing heat devouring his sanity, screaming for vengeance with its thousand baleful voices. Unbidden, a roar burst from his lips and instead of retreating when the mace came arching down from on high, he merely raised one hand overhead, and with blinding flash, thunderous report, caught it. His hand glowed like smelted iron, and like a dagger slicing fat, cleaved the weapon in two. Flame surged within him, gushing from his flesh in glowing scythes as he twisted beneath the shortened weapon, his hand a falling star that slid through the crouched Vordt’s throat, filling his lungs with ash and death.

Madness.

Aleorn paused not a moment before clasping both hands overhead and with terrible force smashing Vordt’s skull like a gourd flung from great height. The Boreal Champion rose again, vapor hissing from its jaws, eyes of arctic blue shining like fractured sapphires.

Madness!

Aleorn felt an alien power swell within him, clamping fingers of molten steel around his heart, crushing him from within.

Madness!

His fist lashed out, his arm a silvered blur that roared through the air, hammering against Vordt’s jaw, a spiral of flame rolling out from the point of impact, a hurricane of light that ripped through flesh and ground bone to motes of dust. Yet still even as Vordt’s headless corpse slumped forward, clawed paws erupted from the ragged stump of its neck, screeching across the bloodied cobblestones and spraying long scythes of sparks in their wake.

Aleorn pivoted, adding momentum to his titanic strength. His hand was a blazing star set upon pedestal of glimmering marble; yet this time as Vordt was thrown back, lifted from the earth as Aleorn’s punch slammed home like a thunderbolt, a cyclone of dust and debris roaring past, the Ashen twisted closer, free hand engulfed in stark white mist. As Vordt slumped to the earth once again, Aleorn dashed forward, gloved palm crashing against the monster’s brow and from the terrible impact swelled a globe of swirling mist. Beneath his hand a Darksign appeared, yet its colours were wrong, white where they should be dark, its fringe unraveling like fraying rope. Vordt’s eyes widened in shock, then glittered with sudden depth as if a thousand thousand minds peered through those azure portals. Aleorn felt his heart lurch, siezed by phantom hands; that fear, that certainty had shone in the Keeper’s eyes. There was some significance in this, yet addled with hate and grief as he was, Aleorn could think of naught but all consuming rage.

Tilting his head back, he unleashed a roar of pain and despair tempered with suffering, made strong by his anger, sharpened by his anguish.

He is Voidborn Or'do thought, relief flowing through him. I am not alone after all.

***

In the days that followed, a thousand Lords were cast to the stones, cracked apart beneath blows swift as lightning, heavy as landslides. Or'do no longer seemed weary or distant, indeed at the fireside, when Lords lay slain, Or'do often joked in raucous tones, made of each moment a festival all its own.

Yet within his skull, dark thoughts reigned still. He does not yet know. He is lost and without purpose, an ember that fades in the gloom. Yet I cannot give him his true place, cannot bestow the mantle his very breath has earned. Aleorn must learn on his own the nature of his strength.

When they entered new worlds, neither the Keeper nor Vordt awaited, and slowly, as Aleorn became stronger, each Lord was wiped from the slate of Creation, Unmade upon every plane at once. Aleorn had noted the Lord’s absence with marked apathy, yet when he learned of the Keeper’s permanent death, it naerly destroyed him.

Yet in the forge of grief was he remade; when he recovered it was without warning and a power that eclipsed any he had displayed. Little did Or'do know: Aleorn no longer grieved, for he felt her presence at his side. She was within him reborn, and her forgiveness had healed the wounds he so long carried.

***

The Soul of Cinder rose, ironclad soles striking sparks from the stones as in ominous silence it advanced. Or'do and Aleorn stood just beyond the threshold, both wielding not but their fists; for any other weapon would be ground to dust beneath the force of their blows.

A thousand times had they fought this guardian, and a thousand Flames had they linked; yet this time, something was different. There was a palpable charge in the air as the Lord advanced, a titan in vestments of flame. Around its feet spiraled pools dark and cold; mist of ebony rising in long, curious tendrils.

It surged forward without warning, blade of bloody flame arching through the air, time seeming to slow as it batted aside their mighty fists, drove back the Voidborn with furious strokes. Relentless as a hurricane it advanced, sundering rock and setting the bare earth alight with the sheer, sinister heat of its blinding blade.

Thou hath reached a Nexus The Keeper’s voice rang in Aleorn’s mind, calm in spite of his mounting fear. A rift where those who tread upon path of solitude and shadow may at last grasp the extent of their err.

Aleorn ducked, yet the starlight blade came crashing down upon him, momentum halted and reversed with impossible speed; belying the monster’s unfathomable might.

Is this what thou sought? Aleorn pivoted where he stood, letting the Soul of Cinder strike naught but a protuberant stone, the blow showering him with sparks, shredding his calf with barbed shards.

You know what I sought. Turning still, dust and blood fanning out behind, he drove a fist strong as steel, unstoppable as a landslide, into the Soul’s stomach, receiving not faintest sign of discomfort, much less pain for his trouble. Solace from a life of torment and desolation. He darted aside, torn muscle trailing like ragged tassels from his torn leg, pain wracking his body, yet the movement spared him a devastating collision with the monster’s blade, the wind of its passing raking razor talons against his neck, heat searing his flesh, melting his armour.

And to that end I sacrificed the one thing in this world for which I cared.

He felt the Keeper smile, grim yet ever hopeful.

Thou knowest not thy comrade’s nature; yet it is between thy bodies shared.

A blade bright as dawn, chilling as dusk, sliced the air a finger’s breadth from his cheek, blinding him if only for a moment. The Keeper could speak, yet the effort taxed her greatly; he sensed whatever it was she wished to impart would either be lain bare now, or not at all.

What are we? Aleorn had lost track of his comrade, and was thus surprised when the Soul lurched, rocked by a siesmic impact. Or'do lunged beneath its slashing blade, ramming his fist into its gut, then darting out of its reach as without slightest wound, the Cinder’s champion turned in pursuit.

I know now whether he shares they power, only thy curse.

The Darksign?

The Voidsign; thou art both sons of chaos, conceived to bring ruin and desolation. He felt her grimace, sorrow cold in her immaterial veins.

And I hid this from thine eyes, praying that thy nature would wither forgotten, would vanish if not attended. Anger, frustration, despair, stained her phantom voice. Mourn not the death I recieved, for it was duly earned.

No! Aleorn gritted his teeth, flame leaking between his lips. No one deserves the death I lavished upon you. I struck you down without mercy. I saw your heart break before I tore it apart.

When she did not respond, Aleorn knew that once again she had succumbed to the eternity of suffering within him, had faded like embers in cooling hearth. Then a whisper came weak and frail:

Slay this Aspect of Eternity, and from its death thou shalt learn the meaning of suffering; this is the toll that understanding demands.

Then she screamed, a horrible, weak, pitiful sound that resonated in his bones, and within them kindled the indomitable flame of rage. He lunged, fist of iron slamming against the monster’s ribs, bone bending, flexing beneath his knuckles, and from the point of impact a sinister Voidsign curled. Yet it did not fall, instead lunging toward him, strands of blood and ash unspooling from its crushed ribs, its sword a sunlight glimmer in the smog choked air as it bore down upon him. Without thinking, Aleorn threw himself to the side, one hand coming down upon the weapon’s flame cloaked plane, the other swiping up from below. Between his hands the sword cracked asunder, its midsection ground to dust beneath the impossible force of its unmaking.

Aleorn wasted no time with awe or satisfaction, merely pivoted around the Aspect, foot sweeping its legs as he passed. In his hand an obsidian dagger gleamed, its edge alit with baleful luminescence. It hissed across the Soul’s throat as he twisted past, spilling a ragged fan of silken blood in its wake, then as if overcome with grief, exploded into wisps of black mist.

Shock clear upon its gaunt features, the Aspect collapsed, arms falling limp at its sides, ashen blood gushing from its sundered throat, splashing into its palms and pooling around it. Then, a disk of intricate, spiral runes swirled out from its ironclad knees as if it was into a spilt of oil that the Soul of Cinder had collapsed.

Mist dark and bleak as starless night, writhed from the flagstones, nebulous hands snaring both Voidborn with grip of iron. Their prison faded like a candle’s uncertain flame and in its wake crept Sleep, sister of Death, bearer of Oblivion. Beneath her phantom touch they crumpled, falling into the void below.

***

The Keeper was right, if only in part: truth did indeed wait in that silken shadow; yet so to did unspeakable pain. It was to a realm of fear and despair that they woke, a land of eternal night governed by twisted titans. As different as this place was, it all the same evoked a sense of familiarity; it to was home to a Shrine, if in purpose alone; a crumbling mansion tended by an immortal doll. Within waited Gehrman, Eldest of the Deep Champions; a formidable foe whose scythe of solemn moonlight took Aleorn’s head from his shoulders while Or'do was engrossed in his own travels. Distance mattered not, however, for he was Voidborn, and thus sensed when his brother’s bond was extinguished. Lord’s of Deep were able to effect Signs of Flame or Void; this Or'do realized only when he held the cold, ruined remains of his dearest friend.

Why does his loss pain me so? Or'do wept bitterly, bowing his weary head until his brow rested upon Aleorn’s motionless, crumbling chest. The answer was obvious, at least in the eyes of another; whether Aleorn realized it or not, he was the ember that warmed Or'do’s cold, solemn heart; he was a brother in arms whose quiet nature and reserved smile were brighter than the Sun itself.

Robbed of his Brand, Aleorn was no less mortal than ordinary man, yet as Or'do held his lost friend, watching through dark eyes as the Voidborn’s blood drifted into the emptiness around him, he noticed upon his comrade’s chest lay the Darksign, not the mark of Void, and it was this, not the Voidsign that had been erased.

Confused, Or'do drew a gloved finger across the pristine Voidsign, half expecting it to come away like damp paint. The Darksign granted a Voidborn greater strength, yet was not his bond to the world; it was little more than a blade or bow, a tool whose loss weakened but yet could not of itself destroy.

He laid a hand atop Aleorn’s silent breast, his own heart ripping itself in two, his vision filled with bright memories; the triumphs they shared, the sense of belonging Or'do had for so long languished without.

“What are you?” He whispered, voice cracking with sorrow. A Voidborn he could save, yet those who dwelt in the Dark, worshiped the Light, were naught but prey to him. Then a thought came, as troublesome as it was wonderous.

If I can steal Darksigns, perhaps I can bestow them as well He drew back his sleeve - gauntlets only shattered beneath the force of his blows - looking upon the dozen signs etched across his flesh with newfound hope.

You cannot. A voice whispered; it took him a moment to recognize it as his own. “You are a Flame that consumes, devouring without bestowing anything in return.”

Aleorn and Or'do stand upon an outcropping of stone, gazing into the chamber far below.

“Perhaps I should fetch a ladder” Or'do muttered.

“Who needs ladders,” Aleorn bounded off the edge, a grin upon his lips, flame unspooling from his limbs. “When you have these knees?!” He vanished into the void below, fading like a fallen torch.

“Aleorn?” Or'do leaned forward, as amused as he was concerned. From far below a thunderous impact boomed, grinding through stone, thrumming in his bones.

“I think I need new knees!” Aleorn called.

Or'do had laughed then, yet he only wept at the memory, for it was as warm and bright as he was cold and dark. In desperation he called out to the Void, pleading for salvation, straining with powers that now defied him. It was perhaps like attempting to bend one’s leg sideways; the muscles were capable, yet the mind rebelled, grappling with the traitorous body for every agonizing inch.

Aleorn sat at the bonfire’s edge, lost in sorrow and desolation. He knew now what terrible fate his fear had bestowed upon the Fire’s Keeper, and this knowledge seared him from within like molten edged caltrops rolling through his veins. There was about him a mantle of darkness, an emptiness in his eyes, a melancholy note to every word.

All that had given his life purpose was now stripped from it; Or'do was the last sliver of hope left in his squalid life, yet he was the force guiding Aleorn’s hand; Or'do’s will had cut short the Keeper’s false life, severed her link to the Flame and cast her forevermore into the abyss that lurked in the shadows beyond life.

Or'do gritted his teeth, staring skyward with eyes that burned like coals set in his skull. His fingernails dug into his palms, blood welling up around them like pools of dark oil.

“It hurts, does it not?” Or'do knelt at his comrade’s side. “I made you do this. Her death is my fault not yours.”

“I wish I could hate you.” Aleorn turned eyes of cold, dark fire upon his friend. “Yet I cannot.”

“I deserve whatever wrath you can muster.”

“Not this time.” Those fierce eyes dimmed, turning bleak and hollow with anguish. “You asked of me, yet I could have defied you.”

“Why did you not?”

Aleorn faltered, and deep in those melancholy eyes, in the depths of his dark soul, something broke. “Because I was afraid.”

Or'do slammed a bloody hand against his comrade’s motionless chest, staining the sundered Darksign with his steaming life. Tears seared his cheeks like rivulets of molten steel, glittering softly in the fitful life.

“I betrayed you.” He whispered. “And you forgave me still.” His voice fractured, rent asunder beneath the weight of despair. “I do not deserve your kindness.”

“Cling to hope, my friend.” Pain tore through his body like a whirlwind of razor edged blades.

“For no matter how dim its embers are,” Upon his chest the Voidsign glowed, its light somehow conveying emptiness like none mankind could fathom, its pale white radiance prophesying a day when the world was forevermore clad in mist and silence.

“For it is always warmer than despair.” Or'do screamed in a harrowing mixture of pain and sorrow, the Void’s brand flaring brighter until to look upon it was to ensure blindness, and silken mist rose from its shimmering perimeters.

One of his stolen Darksigns blazed with light, Or'do’s flesh shivering and rippling beneath its flame kissed shores. Slowly, it faded, leaving a disk shaped scar upon his skin; the sigil of Flame’s dominion melting into long threads black as starless night that flowed along his forearm, spooling around his fingers, digging barbed edges into Aleorn’s crumbling body. The Ashen’s Darksign remained wounded and inert, yet a hand’s span beneath it, a point just above where the leftmost kidney rested, a new Sign branded itself upon his flesh.

At once, Aleorn’s eyes snapped open, breath rushing into his lungs, blood flooding his veins, the parts of his body that had shattered and drifted away instantly reforming. Confusion clouded his eyes only briefly before being replaced with icy sorrow.

“You sacrificed your sign for me.” His voice was choked, empty. “How are you still at my side?”

He did not ask why. Or'do thought. Because he knows that if I fell, he would do the same.

“The Flame sustains my life, yet does not command it. I admit, without the Cycle’s brand, death is permanent; it was but a small sacrifice however, for it brought you back to my side.” He chose his words carefully, not certain why it was that he felt his nature was best concealed rather than spoken of, only that there was something strange about his companion, a Voidborn who was bound not by the Unmaking but the Maker.

Aleorn’s eyes grew hard and keen as flint.

“Then I shall let no harm befall you.”

***

In the days that followed, Aleorn did all he could do uphold that pledge; they were trapped in the heart of the Deep Sea, a series of dungeons whose mouldering depths typically opened only with the whisper of a chalice. Within these foul walls thousands of Ancients languished, and only with their death could freedom be attained.

Sacrificing the Darksign had diminished Or'do’s strength, if by a nigh imperceptible margin: his blows still resonated in the stones, his wounds still healed almost as swiftly as they were produced. From Cinder, from Void, and from Deep could Or'do draw strength, yet as they progressed, it became clear that Aleorn could not do the same. He grew frail and weak, his breaths flecked with blood, his steps faltering, legs barely able to hold him aloft.

Or'do felt a pain worse even than that of tearing free his Darksign, a crippling sense of helplessness as his friend died before his eyes. They had almost reached the lair of the Pthumerian Queen, Enlightened Lord of the Deep; yet Aleorn seemed unable to press on any further. He crumpled there upon the stones, laid prone before the rugged portcullis that stood vigil over Dee’s slumbering soverign, and with trembling, delerious voice begged of Or'do perhaps the one thing he could not grant.

“Please, Or'do.” Aleorn lay limply upon the stones; a marionette with severed strings, his hand cold and feeble in Or'do’s desperate grasp.“I need to see the Sun again,” He whispered, dark eyes closing in weariness and surrender.

“One last time.”

Or'do’s heart sank and he felt his throat constrict, crushed by the iron hand of sorrow.

“You shall see the Sun again.” He felt the lie heavy upon his tongue, scalding his lips as it passed. “Once and forevermore.”

Aleorn smiled, slumping back against the stones, his breath shallow and eyes closed. There was upon his face a peace like none his troubled life and permitted; a certainty that his eternal suffering would end. When Or'do rose, it was with the ominous languor of a tidal wave, lightning convulsing in his dark eyes, his fingernails slicing into his palm as he clenched fists of iron. In spite of the Darksign, his comrade had perished; his body eroded by the Deep Sea as dunes of sand were swept away beneath tempestuous winds.

There was but one way to escape Gehrman’s prison: slay the Sovereign of the Deep. Gehrman had cast them here in certainty that they would never emerge, that they could never again threaten this strange land’s true Lord.

He had erred. Or'do had fought scores of Unkindled, tore their Darksigns from withered flesh and made of them an immense cache of power. The claim of frailty he had made was intended only to pacify his comrade; an Ashen could not long survive without the Flame’s Brand, a certitude with which Aleorn would be well acquainted, and without such claims, his vitality would a suspicion foster.

This realm’s ruler must fall, for such was the price of his friend’s survival. Some part of him rebelled as he brushed bloodied fingers against the gate of fog, having already passed through the portcullis, shouldering through it without pause or resistance. He sensed beyond the Servitor of Deep that lounged beyond; it was unquestionably powerful, stronger perhaps than anything he had faced in his long, tortured life.

Yet it stood between him and the joy of friendship made stronger by the pain it endured. There was a terrible sense of foreboding about that chamber, yet he cared not. Through the mist he passed without another breath wasted in hesitation. For perhaps the first time in his sordid existence, it was neither greed nor disdain that raised his flame wreathed fists, but fear for another.

And perhaps that is why this of all battles was to be his undoing.

***

The Pthumerian Queen would to many be a horrifying sight indeed: her features pale and gaunt, eyes sunken and hollow with anguish. Her vestments of white clung to the swell of her stomach, indicating that a child dwelt within and perhaps this was the source of her anguish: the Deep Sea would soon roll forth, devouring the world beyond, and her child would be the heir to the shattered ruin it left behind.

She stepped forward, head bowed, hands clasped as if in prayer; tendrils of darkness visible only to Or'do’s Voidborn eyes welling up from the ground around her, encircling her like a her like a dead flower’s brittle, crumpling petals.

Aleorn’s breath hissing softly, faintly, his gaze distant. Or'do lunged, slashing wildly, stiffened fingers ripping through her flesh, smashing bone into coarse dust, spinning her where she stood and spraying long crescents of blood across the stones. The Pthumerian Queen made no attempt to evade, merely suffered the blow, let its impact resonate through her, a hushed grunt her only complaint.

Aleorn laughing, his eyes sparkling in the firelight.

Fury crashed over him like a tidal wave of ice and fire.

Aleorn thrusting a fist heavenward, a cry of triumph ringing through the still air.

Or'do’s fist rained upon her, swift as wind, heavy as a rushing avalanche. Even now, battered and bleeding, the Queen showed no trace of fear, only sorrow, only remorse for what she had done.

What she must do.

In his anger, Or'do had become blind to the nebulous mist surrounding her, had suppressed his warrior’s instincts,and thereby allowed his guard to fall. The Queen wasted no time with her retaliation.

Razor edged tendrils slashed through him, impaling every organ, splintering his ribcage and shattering his spine. Blood clogged his throat, coppery and warm, spilling over his lips along with a strangled gasp. Nearly four dozen vipers of mist and steel had pierced him, and now they were all that held him aloft. Every Darksign and the mark of the Unmaking was sundered, and their pain tore through him like a thousand cruelly edged glaives.

“I care not where we are.” Aleorn gestured to the snowy hills of Ariandel. “Only the company in which I travel gives my life meaning.”

I feel the same. Or'do realized. “Oh come now, Aleorn, surely I do not mean that much. I am but a phantom to aid you, nothing more.”

“You are far more than that. Had I not met you, I would wander still, mindless and frail. You freed me from that waking slumber, gave my life meaning again. For that I shall forevermore in your debt be.”

But you did the same for me.

Or'do wept a single tear as the ashen tendrils slid back, retracting with a damp hiss. He felt no pain when he crumpled, vision dark and body distant, only a terrible cold and a sorrow keener than the blades that laid him low.

***

Aleorn slammed an iron palm against the ground, cracks spiraling out from the impact. Or'do had not cried out when he fell, yet Aleorn sensed his peril all the same. Conflagrance! Flame wrapped around his body, curling over his armour like affectionate serpents.

My weakness has already eneded the life of one I loved. He stood, eyes bright as stars, smoke rising from his smouldering flesh. The Cinder within his breast had grown cold and dark, for he had but few souls with which to stoke it. Yet he cared no longer for his own fate; it mattered not whether he lived or fell, only that his cowardice would not claim the life of his dearest friend.

He flung the last of his souls into the Cinder, and let its inferno devour him.

***

As Or'do lay, life pooling around him like spilled oil, he felt a sudden warmth fall over him, a light at the fringe of his vision. His world snapped back into focus as Aleorn surged past, streaking toward the Deep’s Queen like a falling star, lightning flashing from his limbs, exploding beneath his feet. Evert step bore him nearly fifteen paces, hurling him forward with roaring force of an almighty gale.

His fist came up, flame trailing behind in a long, ragged edged fan, ash swirling around his emaciated frame. The Queen smiled sadly, sunken eyes dark as starlit seas. She gestured, slashing the air, and invisible to Aleorn’s Ashen eyes, a halo of keen edged tendrils rose around him, and like a flower spurned by light, its crescent petals snapped closed.

“Aleorn!” Or'do managed only half the word before his voice failed him and blood rather than breath spurted over his lips. He could do no more than watch as his comrade charged headlong into certain death.

Aleorn had not time to register his death before it was upon him. With soft hiss and moist crack the thin blades tore through him, his own momentum forcing them deep, shattering his bones, sundering brands of Flame and Void alike. He stood frozen, blood leaking from his thousand wounds. Then, in the oblivion of instant death, he heard the Keeper’s voice.

“Do not give up, Ashen One. For our kind death is seldom the end.”

“I feel strange.” He murmured, not realizing that he lacked a voice with which to speak. “Different somehow.”

“You are suspended between undeath and the fate it was spared you.” She faltered. “You are not of the Flame, Aleorn. I knew your true nature, and I-” He sensed her discomfort, her regret. “I hid if from you.”

“Why?”

“The same reason I forgave you when at his behest you slew me. When I looked upon you I saw the torment on your face, the pain in your soul. I knew that the truth would destroy you, that if you hunted down the Ashen, alienated the denizens of these endless worlds, you would become far worse than hollow: a sane man pleading the Gods to strike him mad, if only to ease his suffering.

Yet the life I gave you was no better; you suffered still, yearned for the purpose I denied you. Then, you found Or'do, and for the first time in so long, you smiled. I realized then how wrong I was to deny you the joy of purpose, and when you came to destroy me, I knew my death was duly earned.”

“No one deserved the death I gave you.”

“I lack time to debate this!” The Keeper’s voice cracked and only now did Aleorn sense the pain within it. “You are neither Ashen, nor a child of Void, but something far stronger, something that can end the cycle or let it persist until time’s wheel grinds to a halt.”

“What am I?”

“To Or'do, the Champion of Unmaking”

“And you?”

He felt her smile fall upon him, warm and soothing as sunlight. "The Heir of Cinder.“

Aleorn slashed a hand across the spears that held him aloft, striding forward even as they fell away. A single flaming tear traced his jaw, curling around his forearm in a thin wisp of fire. It flowed between his fingers, lengthening into a long, slender blade of piercing light edged in solemn darkness. Lacrimosa the weapon’s name rang through his skull, a one words chorus over the slow thunder of his laboring heart.

What? Or'do felt a surge of hope then, as his comrade took one slow step toward the Queen, scythes of flame taering through his flesh, wisps of the Unmaking’s coarse, grey mist hissing from his wounds.

Aleorn sank into a sprinter’s low stance, Lacrimosa’s shores of starless oblivion darkling before him.

He is not the Champion Or'do realized. Yet neither is he the Heir.

”By the strength of Void,“ Aleorn’s voice was rough, grating. The Queen cared not for theatrics, however; a simple slash of her arm sent vipers of mist arcing toward him, and in spite of himself Or'do cringed, expecting but not relishing his comrade’s violent demise. Yet Aleorn, even badly wounded as he was, whirled forward in a tempest of soot and cinder, his blade a silvered gleam that wove pewter strands through the air, ripping through tendrils of mist and grinding across the stones below, molten earth fanning out in its wake.

”The sorrow of a fading Flame" Aleorn surged forward, every step flinging him some ten paces, each blood flecked breath glittering like embers in the smoke clogged air. Now, the Queen did retreat, desperately slashing with keen edged crescents that bit only air, or clashed with and shattered upon tempered steel.

“And the fury of their clash,” Upon his breast a new sigil blazed to life as if branded from within: a disk of shadow filled with wisps of pale mist. “Shall you be destroyed!”

Or'do’s vision turned black, his life long gone from his veins; yet it was with a smile that his life ended, for the last portrait his eyes painted was of Aleorn, tears of fire streaming from his angular face, blade of light and shadow fading into a long, indistinct blur as it cleaved the Queen from hip to shoulder, ignoring her outstretched hand and the web of mist that armoured her. For once in his long life, Or'do was truly happy: this time his hate, his greed, his worthlessness had not claimed a life, but elevated it.

And that meant more to him than all the souls in these foul lands.

***

No sooner had the Deep’s Queen fallen, than the dungeon was crumbling away, tiles fading int ofrail stalks and pale bloom, arched ceiling shattering to reveal heavens grey and bleak. Gehrman, Lord of the Deep, stared on in shock, fear, and perhaps awe as Aleorn strode forth, eyes dark and downcast, bloodied sword thrust out wide, black tendrils weeping from its edge.

Or'do falling, a strange peace softening his features. Aleorn gritted his teeth, blood pouring over his lips as shards of ivory sliced his mouth, teeth shattering like porcelain.

Or'do lying in his arms as the world fades. Gehrman barely registered the movement as Aleorn rushed forth, blade shrieking as it arced in from below. It was primal reflex and nothing more that tugged the Deep Lord’s scythe into the weapon’s path, their clash reverberating through the still air. Steel grated against steel, cracks spiraling along Gehrman’s blade. Now, and for perhaps the first time he felt true, abject terror: here was a foe whose power so dwarfed his own that even the earth charred and cracked beneath him, the Lord’s flesh sloughing away.

His scythe shattered into a blizzard of starlight fragments, and a mere breath later, Aleorn’s blade tore him asunder, snapping his spine like a brittle twig. At once, the Deep Sea vanished, replaced with the Kiln’s familiar scent of char and despair, its earth no longer clad in grasses but in stark grey sands. When Gehrman opened his mouth in a scream of horrible pain, Lacrimosa glided over his lips and vanished into his throat, connecting his severed boy with a thin column of steel.

Ignescence! Flame coursed through Gehrman’s veins, igniting his bones, smoke spurting from his eyes, fire gushing frmo his shredding flesh.

Aleorn released the embedded blade and fell to his knees as if in reverence. Tears of flame streaked his features with molten rivulets, their heat and light a stark contrast to his frigid, barren heart. The only friend he had known now lay dead upon the stones, granted a long deserved and hard won peace, yet Aleorn wanted only to take it from him.

He rose, leaving the impromptu bonfire and staggering into the darkness, motes of light and ribbons of ember speckled ash drifting from his stooped, beleaguered frame. Aleorn knelt at his comrade’s side, backlit by the steady glow of ravenous flame, and took Or'do’s hand in his own, closing his eyes and bowing his head as if this alone would wake his dearest friend.

Slowly, a glimmering tear traced his jaw, falling like a bead of still molten glass and bursting upon his comrade’s motionless chest.

“Do not weep for me.” Or'do whispered. “I do not deserve it.”

Aleorn opened his mouth in protest, yet Or'do interjected: “I am tired.” He sounded confused, dazed. “Allow me a moment’s rest,” his eyes closed to faintly glowing crescents, a smile still upon his bloodied lips. “And when I wake we shall be together again.”

Then he was gone, and Aleorn wept until the world rotted to nothing around him.

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mjtwinflamesoul · 1 year

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Twin Flame Victory by Susan Elsa MJTWINFLAMESOUL

Always think positive about your Twin Flame, because it comes back mirroring like a boomerang on YOU, instantly. The thought you produce, the emotion with it, the focus, are the key here, central in fact.

Dear World Everyone of us, human beings, goes through challenges in life. Many of us struggle, short, or long, heavy or mild, but every human being finally has the same struggle, the same desires, the same wishes deep inside. I knew that when I learned, from my Twin Soul after his passing, the precise English term “Twin Soul”. There was barely any information, any public conversation,…

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aleornheirofcinder-blog · 7 years

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Summary of Book One

I have moved from blogger to tumblr; the original blog is available at darksouls3fanstory.blogger.com. If you desire more than a summary can provide, feel free to visit!

Part one

and like all things that we love,

Fate was all too happy to destroy it.

Part One

“There is no point in all this.” He murmured, gaze downcast, studying the embers.

“Of course there is.” Aleorn knew his words were hollow; they fell cold and empty from his lips, how could they ring any differently in the ears of his friend?

“No, and not even you believe that. Each world is only a gateway to the next, every foe a marionette that rises again as soon as our back is turned.”

Aleorn sensed that Or’do was goading him, that there was a response for which he yearned, but one of which he could not speak.

What does he want? He thought, confused.

“The cycle enslaves us.” Haunted eyes locked with Aleorn’s. “But I know how to end it.”

Aleorn felt a surge of frost pour through his veins. “Why?! If you end the cycle, return the void that lay before,” He trailed off. “So many would perish.”

“Aye.” Or’do’s eyes darkened. “I thought you would say as much.”

Perhaps Or’do created him.

He was a man enslaved, bound as much by friendship as fear.

“I owe the Flame nothing” I cannot become that man again “It stripped away my identity, made of me a mindless wraith.”

“When the cycle ends, so shall thy life.”

“Then you would renounce the Flame?”

I cannot be alone again “Yes.” He murmured. I cannot endure the despair, the solitude. “I forsake the Flame, as it has forsaken me.”

“Good.” Or’do sounded relieved. “Then I’ve a task for you.”

“Name it!” Aleorn flinched. Not so eager he chastised.

“Return to your shrine, and slay its Keeper.”

Aleorn stopped short. “Why?”

“She is a servant of the cycle, exists to ensure its continuity; need you a reason beyond that?”

Yes “No,” He lied. “I merely wondered at the reason.”

Or’do softened. “I do not command you, Aleorn, merely pose a request; those can be denied, my friend. Yet until you slay her, you will be unable to gain the power I have.”

I cannot “Is her death necessary?”

“It is.” Or’do rested a hand on his comrade’s shoulder. “Slaying her is the first step toward freedom, the first riven link that causes the chain to fail.”

***

Why do I care for him? A flash of memory, cold anguish crushing his heart.

***

Then I looked upon you, my heart dark and barren, my world a tempest of blood and steel. He looked up, breaking his reverent stance.

The cycle ends here. His heart felt as though its would tear itself asunder.

Both collapsed to the stones, Aleorn tearing his hand from her crushed chest, holding her close as life fled.

This is how I repay her kindness? Her breaths – shuddering and weak – misted against his breastplate. What have I done?!

She struggled to speak, and while the words had not breath to grant them substance, they smote him as if wrought of stone: “I forgive you, Ashen One.”

“I’ve sacrificed you, that I might grow stronger, that I would never again feel the agony of loneliness.” He knelt beside the makeshift tomb, eyes closed and tears glimmering on their fringes.

“You forgive me,” He buried his face in his hands. “But I can never forgive myself.”

***

“It is done,” He rasped. “The Keeper’s soul is mine.”

“It hurt, did it not?” Or’do’s words were soft, kind. He knelt at his comrade’s side. “Her death pains you.”

“Because she was kind where so many were cruel. In a world bleak and dark, her smile was a breath of warmth and peace, a solace fleeting but no less lovely.”

“When we stride on to the next of these countless worlds, we shall find there another precisely as she was.” Aleorn wrung his hands, gaze haunted. “Her loss is temporary.”

“Strange, is it not?” Or’do rested a hand on Aleorn’s shoulder. “Flame sustains us, yet lies still burn our mouths.”

Aleorn looked up, confused.

“Then why did we destroy her?!” A flash of light in his weary eyes. “Why did you demand that I take her life?”

Or’do merely gestured to the obsidian ring. “You have taken her soul, have you not yet used it?”

Aleorn shook his head. “How could I?”

To this he received a knowing nod.

“The pain will fade. You have done what was needed; pray claim thy reward, lest it wither forgotten.”

“I cannot.” He whispered. “Every time I try, I see her smile, watch again as it turns cold and still with death.”

“I understand.” Or’do silenced him with an upraised hand. “Torment yourself no more then.”

Aleorn nodded gratefully.

“Are you ready for one last fight?” Or’d asked, receiving a confused look by way of reply. “One last battle as an Ashen,” he clarified, “before you become something far stronger.”

“When I become that of which you speak, will I feel this agony still?”

“No, you will be consumed with unimaginable power, and in its razor edged tempest lose yourself if only for a moment.

A fist tightened in determination, a pall of darkness clouding once bright eyes. “Then let us be on our way.”

End of Part 1

Part 2

"A potent blow" Or'do called; his resonant voice losing no volume despite the formidable distance it crossed. Or'do stood near the Dancer's gate, hands cupped around his mouth to magnify his words. At the stairs' end, where a secnod gate loomed, several hollows lay in scorched ruin, the force of Aleorn's flows nearly severing their heads, the impact alone cracking armour of boiled leather, turning it and the body beneath into crumpled heaps that lay dark and melancholy upon the stones. "Yet you can do better."

In the days since the Keeper's death, Aleorn had not drawn upon her powers, at least not by conscious design. While he sensed not her strength, he felt his reservoir of souls diminish slightly with each blow. In an exchange of some sort, the Cinder within him flared with life and his attack gained cataclysmic force, yet the lives within him were burned away. No flame could burn without fuel, however, and the price was far outweighed by the reward.

I cannot do this. Aleorn nodded silently, sinking into a pugilist's stance. On the ground before him, the slain hollow twitched, glowing from within as if a bonfire had been kindled among its ribs. Its chest exploded, flame and gore erupting as clawed fingers thrust forth, yellowed nails digging into the stones with sickening shrieks. Another hollow dragged itself into Aleorn's world, drawn from one parallel by Or'do's baffling power. Aleorn knew not how his comrade did this, and in truth, he cared little.

Her death has strengthened me. His fist crashed home, flattening the creature's face with a reverberating crunch!

He turned dark eyes to the hill's crest where Or'do stood, nodding his approval.

"Better still! One more, then we test thy newfound might upon a creature of more adequate strength."

Aleorn bent in a half bow, unconsciously wreathing his hands in serpents of fire as he pivoted back to the many times reborn hollow. He wove fingers strong and cruel as steel into a two handed fist, and with its immense power staved in the hollow's grey scalp before it had taken so much as a single step into its new world, a single breath of blood clogged air. It collapsed sidelong, thin wisps of smoke trailing from its seared flesh.

Without warning, the fog door vanished, recoiling as if burned, its absence revealing the broad, empty chamber beyond. Aleorn was quite familiar with the Boreal Valley's Champion, Vordt; yet he was all the same caught off guard when in a whirlwind of polar fury lunged out of that chamber, falling upon Aleorn in a steel edged dervish. A reflexive swipe of his flaming hand flipped a rather surprised Vordt aside, hurling him against the far wall with terrible force. Yet even as his body shattered, the Lord was reborn, bursting frmo the ruin of his predecessor. Aleorn blocked the monster's slashing mace - which dwarfed even the largest of men - upon his upraised forearm, twisting beneath and driving his iron fist between those eyes of arctic blue, crushing Vordt's ursine features and freeing another twin from its cocoon of steel and bone.

As he observed the seemingly endless battle, Or'do's mind strayed into ever darker reaches of the hell behind his pale eyes. Aleorn had wept, true sorrow clear upon his bleak features, yet it should not be possible; the mere fact he had returned defied logic. No Ashen was capable of slaying the Keeper however mad or apathetic they were; she would merely rise again, hiding well her disdain beneath a mask of concern. Yet there was no duplicity in Aleorn's eyes; few Ashen pursued deception as it was, for what one desired could be taken by force more effectively than guile; the oft broken Patches attested to that.

"How?" He whispered. Even the Voidwalker's band was noting more than a death sentence; the fatal blow Or'do could not bring himself to deliver. The ring permitted, or compelled rather, its wielder to etch the Void's mark upon their foes, yet in so doing would excise the Flame's brand. Aleorn should had fallen where he stood, severed from the Flame, his death as certain as that of a mortal deprived breath.

Unless he was already Voidborn.

"I tried to murder another Solitude Strider?" He felt a chill slither along his spine. "How did I fail to recognize one of my own kin?" Or'do asked the wind, yet he recieved an answer all the same, spoken in his own internal voice. Because he has not yet realized it himself.

Aleorn whirled beneath his foe's mace, the air roaring, light dancing along its cruel edge. Flame seethed from his fist as pivoting still, he delivered a right hook that flattened the Boreal Gladiator's face, his arm a blazing pillar, his eye cold and hard.

Or'do exhaled softly, his feature troubled. Initially, slaying the Fire Keeper was naught but a death sentence in the guise of a test of loyalty. This task however, was far from meaningless.

"Go on." He closed fingers of iron around his forearm. "Show my thy true strength."

Madness.

Aleorn paused not a moment before clasping both hands overhead and with terrible force smashing Vordt's skull like a gourd flung from great height. The Boreal Champion rose again, vapor hissing from its jaws, eyes of arctic blue shining like fractured sapphires.

Madness!

Aleorn felt an alien power swell within him, clamping fingers of molten steel around his heart, crushing him from within.

Madness!

His fist lashed out, his arm a silvered blur that roared through the air, hammering against Vordt's jaw, a spiral of flame rolling out from the point of impact, a hurricane of light that ripped through flesh and ground bone to motes of dust. Yet still even as Vordt's headless corpse slumped forward, clawed paws erupted from the ragged stump of its neck, screeching across the bloodied cobblestones and spraying long scythes of sparks in their wake.

Aleorn pivoted, adding momentum to his titanic strength. His hand was a blazing star set upon pedestal of glimmering marble; yet this time as Vordt was thrown back, lifted from the earth as Aleorn's punch slammed home like a thunderbolt, a cyclone of dust and debris roaring past, the Ashen twisted closer, free hand engulfed in stark white mist. As Vordt slumped to the earth once again, Aleorn dashed forward, gloved palm crashing against the monster's brow and from the terrible impact swelled a globe of swirling mist. Beneath his hand a Darksign appeared, yet its colours were wrong, white where they should be dark, its fringe unraveling like fraying rope. Vordt's eyes widened in shock, then glittered with sudden depth as if a thousand thousand minds peered through those azure portals. Aleorn felt his heart lurch, siezed by phantom hands; that fear, that certainty had shone in the Keeper's eyes. There was some significance in this, yet addled with hate and grief as he was, Aleorn could think of naught but all consuming rage.

Tilting his head back, he unleashed a roar of pain and despair tempered with suffering, made strong by his anger, sharpened by his anguish.

He is Voidborn Or'do thought, relief flowing through him. I am not alone after all.

***

When they entered new worlds, neither the Keeper nor Vordt awaited, and slowly, as Aleorn became stronger, each Lord was wiped from the slate of Creation, Unmade upon every plane at once. Aleorn had noted the Lord's absence with marked apathy, yet when he learned of the Keeper's permanent death, it naerly destroyed him.

***

Thou hath reached a Nexus The Keeper's voice rang in Aleorn's mind, calm in spite of his mounting fear. A rift where those who tread upon path of solitude and shadow may at last grasp the extent of their err.

Aleorn ducked, yet the starlight blade came crashing down upon him, momentum halted and reversed with impossible speed; belying the monster's unfathomable might.

Is this what thou sought? Aleorn pivoted where he stood, letting the Soul of Cinder strike naught but a protuberant stone, the blow showering him with sparks, shredding his calf with barbed shards.

You know what I sought. Turning still, dust and blood fanning out behind, he drove a fist strong as steel, unstoppable as a landslide, into the Soul's stomach, receiving not faintest sign of discomfort, much less pain for his trouble. Solace from a life of torment and desolation. He darted aside, torn muscle trailing like ragged tassels from his torn leg, pain wracking his body, yet the movement spared him a devastating collision with the monster's blade, the wind of its passing raking razor talons against his neck, heat searing his flesh, melting his armour.

And to that end I sacrificed the one thing in this world for which I cared.

He felt the Keeper smile, grim yet ever hopeful.

Thou knowest not thy comrade's nature; yet it is between thy bodies shared.

A blade bright as dawn, chilling as dusk, sliced the air a finger's breadth from his cheek, blinding him if only for a moment. The Keeper could speak, yet the effort taxed her greatly; he sensed whatever it was she wished to impart would either be lain bare now, or not at all.

I know now whether he shares they power, only thy curse.

The Darksign?

The Voidsign; thou art both sons of chaos, conceived to bring ruin and desolation. He felt her grimace, sorrow cold in her immaterial veins.

No! Aleorn gritted his teeth, flame leaking between his lips. No one deserves the death I lavished upon you. I struck you down without mercy. I saw your heart break before I tore it apart.

When she did not respond, Aleorn knew that once again she had succumbed to the eternity of suffering within him, had faded like embers in cooling hearth. Then a whisper came weak and frail:

Slay this Aspect of Eternity, and from its death thou shalt learn the meaning of suffering; this is the toll that understanding demands.

Then she screamed, a horrible, weak, pitiful sound that resonated in his bones, and within them kindled the indomitable flame of rage. He lunged, fist of iron slamming against the monster's ribs, bone bending, flexing beneath his knuckles, and from the point of impact a sinister Voidsign curled. Yet it did not fall, instead lunging toward him, strands of blood and ash unspooling from its crushed ribs, its sword a sunlight glimmer in the smog choked air as it bore down upon him. Without thinking, Aleorn threw himself to the side, one hand coming down upon the weapon's flame cloaked plane, the other swiping up from below. Between his hands the sword cracked asunder, its midsection ground to dust beneath the impossible force of its unmaking.

Aleorn wasted no time with awe or satisfaction, merely pivoted around the Aspect, foot sweeping its legs as he passed. In his hand an obsidian dagger gleamed, its edge alit with baleful luminescence. It hissed across the Soul's throat as he twisted past, spilling a ragged fan of silken blood in its wake, then as if overcome with grief, exploded into wisps of black mist.

Mist dark and bleak as starless night, writhed from the flagstones, nebulous hands snaring both Voidborn with grip of iron. Their prison faded like a candle's uncertain flame and in its wake crept Sleep, sister of Death, bearer of Oblivion. Beneath her phantom touch they crumpled, falling into the void below.

***

The Keeper was right, if only in part: truth did indeed wait in that silken shadow; yet so to did unspeakable pain. It was to a realm of fear and despair that they woke, a land of eternal night governed by twisted titans. As different as this place was, it all the same evoked a sense of familiarity; it to was home to a Shrine, if in purpose alone; a crumbling mansion tended by an immortal doll. Within waited Gehrman, Eldest of the Deep Champions; a formidable foe whose scythe of solemn moonlight took Aleorn's head from his shoulders while Or'do was engrossed in his own travels. Distance mattered not, however, for he was Voidborn, and thus sensed when his brother's bond was extinguished. Lord's of Deep were able to effect Signs of Flame or Void; this Or'do realized only when he held the cold, ruined remains of his dearest friend.

Why does his loss pain me so? Or'do wept bitterly, bowing his weary head until his brow rested upon Aleorn's motionless, crumbling chest. The answer was obvious, at least in the eyes of another; whether Aleorn realized it or not, he was the ember that warmed Or'do's cold, solemn heart; he was a brother in arms whose quiet nature and reserved smile were brighter than the Sun itself.

Robbed of his Brand, Aleorn was no less mortal than ordinary man, yet as Or'do held his lost friend, watching through dark eyes as the Voidborn's blood drifted into the emptiness around him, he noticed upon his comrade's chest lay the Darksign, not the mark of Void, and it was this, not the Voidsign that had been erased.

He laid a hand atop Aleorn's silent breast, his own heart ripping itself in two, his vision filled with bright memories; the triumphs they shared, the sense of belonging Or'do had for so long languished without.

"What are you?" He whispered, voice cracking with sorrow. A Voidborn he could save, yet those who dwelt in the Dark, worshiped the Light, were naught but prey to him. Then a thought came, as troublesome as it was wonderous.

You cannot. A voice whispered; it took him a moment to recognize it as his own. "You are a Flame that consumes, devouring without bestowing anything in return."

Aleorn and Or'do stand upon an outcropping of stone, gazing into the chamber far below.

"Perhaps I should fetch a ladder" Or'do muttered.

"Who needs ladders," Aleorn bounded off the edge, a grin upon his lips, flame unspooling from his limbs. "When you have these knees?!" He vanished into the void below, fading like a fallen torch.

"Aleorn?" Or'do leaned forward, as amused as he was concerned. From far below a thunderous impact boomed, grinding through stone, thrumming in his bones.

"I think I need new knees!" Aleorn called.

Or'do had laughed then, yet he only wept at the memory, for it was as warm and bright as he was cold and dark. In desperation he called out to the Void, pleading for salvation, straining with powers that now defied him. It was perhaps like attempting to bend one's leg sideways; the muscles were capable, yet the mind rebelled, grappling with the traitorous body for every agonizing inch.

Aleorn sat at the bonfire's edge, lost in sorrow and desolation. He knew now what terrible fate his fear had bestowed upon the Fire's Keeper, and this knowledge seared him from within like molten edged caltrops rolling through his veins. There was about him a mantle of darkness, an emptiness in his eyes, a melancholy note to every word.

All that had given his life purpose was now stripped from it; Or'do was the last sliver of hope left in his squalid life, yet he was the force guiding Aleorn's hand; Or'do's will had cut short the Keeper's false life, severed her link to the Flame and cast her forevermore into the abyss that lurked in the shadows beyond life.

Or'do gritted his teeth, staring skyward with eyes that burned like coals set in his skull. His fingernails dug into his palms, blood welling up around them like pools of dark oil.

"It hurts, does it not?" Or'do knelt at his comrade's side. "I made you do this. Her death is my fault not yours."

"I wish I could hate you." Aleorn turned eyes of cold, dark fire upon his friend. "Yet I cannot."

"I deserve whatever wrath you can muster."

"Not this time." Those fierce eyes dimmed, turning bleak and hollow with anguish. "You asked of me, yet I could have defied you."

"Why did you not?"

Aleorn faltered, and deep in those melancholy eyes, in the depths of his dark soul, something broke. "Because I was afraid."

Or'do slammed a bloody hand against his comrade's motionless chest, staining the sundered Darksign with his steaming life. Tears seared his cheeks like rivulets of molten steel, glittering softly in the fitful life.

"I betrayed you." He whispered. "And you forgave me still." His voice fractured, rent asunder beneath the weight of despair. "I do not deserve your kindness."

"Cling to hope, my friend." Pain tore through his body like a whirlwind of razor edged blades.

"For no matter how dim its embers are," Upon his chest the Voidsign glowed, its light somehow conveying emptiness like none mankind could fathom, its pale white radiance prophesying a day when the world was forevermore clad in mist and silence.

"For it is always warmer than despair." Or'do screamed in a harrowing mixture of pain and sorrow, the Void's brand flaring brighter until to look upon it was to ensure blindness, and silken mist rose from its shimmering perimeters.

One of his stolen Darksigns blazed with light, Or'do's flesh shivering and rippling beneath its flame kissed shores. Slowly, it faded, leaving a disk shaped scar upon his skin; the sigil of Flame's dominion melting into long threads black as starless night that flowed along his forearm, spooling around his fingers, digging barbed edges into Aleorn's crumbling body. The Ashen's Darksign remained wounded and inert, yet a hand's span beneath it, a point just above where the leftmost kidney rested, a new Sign branded itself upon his flesh.

At once, Aleorn's eyes snapped open, breath rushing into his lungs, blood flooding his veins, the parts of his body that had shattered and drifted away instantly reforming. Confusion clouded his eyes only briefly before being replaced with icy sorrow.

"You sacrificed your sign for me." His voice was choked, empty. "How are you still at my side?"

He did not ask why. Or'do thought. Because he knows that if I fell, he would do the same.

"The Flame sustains my life, yet does not command it. I admit, without the Cycle's brand, death is permanent; it was but a small sacrifice however, for it brought you back to my side." He chose his words carefully, not certain why it was that he felt his nature was best concealed rather than spoken of, only that there was something strange about his companion, a Voidborn who was bound not by the Unmaking but the Maker.

Aleorn's eyes grew hard and keen as flint.

"Then I shall let no harm befall you."

***

Sacrificing the Darksign had diminished Or'do's strength, if by a nigh imperceptible margin: his blows still resonated in the stones, his wounds still healed almost as swiftly as they were produced. From Cinder, from Void, and from Deep could Or'do draw strength, yet as they progressed, it became clear that Aleorn could not do the same. He grew frail and weak, his breaths flecked with blood, his steps faltering, legs barely able to hold him aloft.

Or'do felt a pain worse even than that of tearing free his Darksign, a crippling sense of helplessness as his friend died before his eyes. They had almost reached the lair of the Pthumerian Queen, Enlightened Lord of the Deep; yet Aleorn seemed unable to press on any further. He crumpled there upon the stones, laid prone before the rugged portcullis that stood vigil over Dee's slumbering soverign, and with trembling, delerious voice begged of Or'do perhaps the one thing he could not grant.

"Please, Or'do." Aleorn lay limply upon the stones; a marionette with severed strings, his hand cold and feeble in Or'do's desperate grasp."I need to see the Sun again," He whispered, dark eyes closing in weariness and surrender.

"One last time."

Or'do's heart sank and he felt his throat constrict, crushed by the iron hand of sorrow.

"You shall see the Sun again." He felt the lie heavy upon his tongue, scalding his lips as it passed. "Once and forevermore."

There was but one way to escape Gehrman's prison: slay the Sovereign of the Deep. Gehrman had cast them here in certainty that they would never emerge, that they could never again threaten this strange land's true Lord.

He had erred. Or'do had fought scores of Unkindled, tore their Darksigns from withered flesh and made of them an immense cache of power. The claim of frailty he had made was intended only to pacify his comrade; an Ashen could not long survive without the Flame's Brand, a certitude with which Aleorn would be well acquainted, and without such claims, his vitality would a suspicion foster.

This realm's ruler must fall, for such was the price of his friend's survival. Some part of him rebelled as he brushed bloodied fingers against the gate of fog, having already passed through the portcullis, shouldering through it without pause or resistance. He sensed beyond the Servitor of Deep that lounged beyond; it was unquestionably powerful, stronger perhaps than anything he had faced in his long, tortured life.

And perhaps that is why this of all battles was to be his undoing.

***

She stepped forward, head bowed, hands clasped as if in prayer; tendrils of darkness visible only to Or'do's Voidborn eyes welling up from the ground around her, encircling her like a her like a dead flower's brittle, crumpling petals.

Aleorn's breath hissing softly, faintly, his gaze distant. Or'do lunged, slashing wildly, stiffened fingers ripping through her flesh, smashing bone into coarse dust, spinning her where she stood and spraying long crescents of blood across the stones. The Pthumerian Queen made no attempt to evade, merely suffered the blow, let its impact resonate through her, a hushed grunt her only complaint.

Aleorn laughing, his eyes sparkling in the firelight.

Fury crashed over him like a tidal wave of ice and fire.

Aleorn thrusting a fist heavenward, a cry of triumph ringing through the still air.

Or'do's fist rained upon her, swift as wind, heavy as a rushing avalanche. Even now, battered and bleeding, the Queen showed no trace of fear, only sorrow, only remorse for what she had done.

What she must do.

In his anger, Or'do had become blind to the nebulous mist surrounding her, had suppressed his warrior's instincts,and thereby allowed his guard to fall. The Queen wasted no time with her retaliation.

"I care not where we are." Aleorn gestured to the snowy hills of Ariandel. "Only the company in which I travel gives my life meaning."

I feel the same. Or'do realized. "Oh come now, Aleorn, surely I do not mean that much. I am but a phantom to aid you, nothing more."

"You are far more than that. Had I not met you, I would wander still, mindless and frail. You freed me from that waking slumber, gave my life meaning again. For that I shall forevermore in your debt be."

But you did the same for me.

***

He flung the last of his souls into the Cinder, and let its inferno devour him.

***

As Or'do lay, life pooling around him like spilled oil, he felt a sudden warmth fall over him, a light at the fringe of his vision. His world snapped back into focus as Aleorn surged past, streaking toward the Deep's Queen like a falling star, lightning flashing from his limbs, exploding beneath his feet. Evert step bore him nearly fifteen paces, hurling him forward with roaring force of an almighty gale.

His fist came up, flame trailing behind in a long, ragged edged fan, ash swirling around his emaciated frame. The Queen smiled sadly, sunken eyes dark as starlit seas. She gestured, slashing the air, and invisible to Aleorn's Ashen eyes, a halo of keen edged tendrils rose around him, and like a flower spurned by light, its crescent petals snapped closed.

"Aleorn!" Or'do managed only half the word before his voice failed him and blood rather than breath spurted over his lips. He could do no more than watch as his comrade charged headlong into certain death.

"Do not give up, Ashen One. For our kind death is seldom the end."

"I feel strange." He murmured, not realizing that he lacked a voice with which to speak. "Different somehow."

"You are suspended between undeath and the fate it was spared you." She faltered. "You are not of the Flame, Aleorn. I knew your true nature, and I-" He sensed her discomfort, her regret. "I hid if from you."

"Why?"

"The same reason I forgave you when at his behest you slew me. When I looked upon you I saw the torment on your face, the pain in your soul. I knew that the truth would destroy you, that if you hunted down the Ashen, alienated the denizens of these endless worlds, you would become far worse than hollow: a sane man pleading the Gods to strike him mad, if only to ease his suffering.

"No one deserved the death I gave you."

"I lack time to debate this!" The Keeper's voice cracked and only now did Aleorn sense the pain within it. "You are neither Ashen, nor a child of Void, but something far stronger, something that can end the cycle or let it persist until time's wheel grinds to a halt."

"What am I?"

"To Or'do, the Champion of Unmaking"

"And you?"

He felt her smile fall upon him, warm and soothing as sunlight. "The Heir of Cinder."

Aleorn slashed a hand across the spears that held him aloft, striding forward even as they fell away. A single flaming tear traced his jaw, curling around his forearm in a thin wisp of fire. It flowed between his fingers, lengthening into a long, slender blade of piercing light edged in solemn darkness. Lacrimosa the weapon's name rang through his skull, a one words chorus over the slow thunder of his laboring heart.

What? Or'do felt a surge of hope then, as his comrade took one slow step toward the Queen, scythes of flame taering through his flesh, wisps of the Unmaking's coarse, grey mist hissing from his wounds.

Aleorn sank into a sprinter's low stance, Lacrimosa's shores of starless oblivion darkling before him.

He is not the Champion Or'do realized. Yet neither is he the Heir.

"By the strength of Void," Aleorn's voice was rough, grating. The Queen cared not for theatrics, however; a simple slash of her arm sent vipers of mist arcing toward him, and in spite of himself Or'do cringed, expecting but not relishing his comrade's violent demise. Yet Aleorn, even badly wounded as he was, whirled forward in a tempest of soot and cinder, his blade a silvered gleam that wove pewter strands through the air, ripping through tendrils of mist and grinding across the stones below, molten earth fanning out in its wake.

"The sorrow of a fading Flame" Aleorn surged forward, every step flinging him some ten paces, each blood flecked breath glittering like embers in the smoke clogged air. Now, the Queen did retreat, desperately slashing with keen edged crescents that bit only air, or clashed with and shattered upon tempered steel.

"And the fury of their clash," Upon his breast a new sigil blazed to life as if branded from within: a disk of shadow filled with wisps of pale mist. "Shall you be destroyed!"

Or'do's vision turned black, his life long gone from his veins; yet it was with a smile that his life ended, for the last portrait his eyes painted was of Aleorn, tears of fire streaming from his angular face, blade of light and shadow fading into a long, indistinct blur as it cleaved the Queen from hip to shoulder, ignoring her outstretched hand and the web of mist that armoured her. For once in his long life, Or'do was truly happy: this time his hate, his greed, his worthlessness had not claimed a life, but elevated it.

And that meant more to him than all the souls in these foul lands.

***

No sooner had the Deep's Queen fallen, than the dungeon was crumbling away, tiles fading int ofrail stalks and pale bloom, arched ceiling shattering to reveal heavens grey and bleak. Gehrman, Lord of the Deep, stared on in shock, fear, and perhaps awe as Aleorn strode forth, eyes dark and downcast, bloodied sword thrust out wide, black tendrils weeping from its edge.

Or'do falling, a strange peace softening his features. Aleorn gritted his teeth, blood pouring over his lips as shards of ivory sliced his mouth, teeth shattering like porcelain.

Or'do lying in his arms as the world fades. Gehrman barely registered the movement as Aleorn rushed forth, blade shrieking as it arced in from below. It was primal reflex and nothing more that tugged the Deep Lord's scythe into the weapon's path, their clash reverberating through the still air. Steel grated against steel, cracks spiraling along Gehrman's blade. Now, and for perhaps the first time he felt true, abject terror: here was a foe whose power so dwarfed his own that even the earth charred and cracked beneath him, the Lord's flesh sloughing away.

His scythe shattered into a blizzard of starlight fragments, and a mere breath later, Aleorn's blade tore him asunder, snapping his spine like a brittle twig. At once, the Deep Sea vanished, replaced with the Kiln's familiar scent of char and despair, its earth no longer clad in grasses but in stark grey sands. When Gehrman opened his mouth in a scream of horrible pain, Lacrimosa glided over his lips and vanished into his throat, connecting his severed boy with a thin column of steel.

Ignescence! Flame coursed through Gehrman's veins, igniting his bones, smoke spurting from his eyes, fire gushing frmo his shredding flesh.

He rose, leaving the impromptu bonfire and staggering into the darkness, motes of light and ribbons of ember speckled ash drifting from his stooped, beleaguered frame. Aleorn knelt at his comrade's side, backlit by the steady glow of ravenous flame, and took Or'do's hand in his own, closing his eyes and bowing his head as if this alone would wake his dearest friend.

Slowly, a glimmering tear traced his jaw, falling like a bead of still molten glass and bursting upon his comrade's motionless chest.

"Do not weep for me." Or'do whispered. "I do not deserve it."

Aleorn opened his mouth in protest, yet Or'do interjected: "I am tired." He sounded confused, dazed. "Allow me a moment's rest," his eyes closed to faintly glowing crescents, a smile still upon his bloodied lips. "And when I wake we shall be together again."

Then he was gone, and Aleorn wept until the world rotted to nothing around him.

#darksouls #dark souls #dark souls fan art #fan story #fanfic #epic

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