Thine Heart's Desire (A Dark Souls Fanfiction)

Chapter 2: The Warrior

"Perhaps it's better that she is blind... The world is too cold, too cruel for such innocent eyes."

Aged sabatons cast from fine silver kicked up dirt behind the charging warrior, as he slammed his shield into a raging hollow, batting the pitiable creature off to the side.

It yelled, in tones some could consider a mockery of a human voice. Raspy, dry, animalistic squeals of pain, mixed with the occasional groan. The hollow was not as far gone as the Warrior had expected, in fact, it was quite responsive. Seeing it swing the great, rusted machete once used to dismember corpses as if it were a plaything was... sobering.

That could be you. Someday, it will be you.

How much longer can you continue, Undead?

You will fall to ruin, to the curse. That is your fate, as it was for your kin.

Such pestering thoughts... like the flies that buzzed around his face, around the blood soaked, burlap sacks tied off with rope and chains. Some moved... squirming, twitching like worms or slugs that had been trodden beneath a gardener's old boot, writhing in pain.

How he wished it would all leave his mind. How he wished it would just end.

A wild flurry of blows, a whirlwind of rust and iron, and desiccated flesh screamed and howled his way. The warrior was nearly caught off his guard. Nearly.

A breath escaped his lungs as he ducked, lunging forwards with his sword arm extending, thrusting the blade deep into the hollow's chest, forcing a piercing wail from its already scarred, and mutilated throat. With a forceful kick, and a few more stabs, slashes, and a silver boot to cave in the hollow's withered, atrophied skull, the warrior could claim victory for the time being.

Pathetic. You struggle with one sick hollow.

You delay your fate, Undead. Soon, it will find you.

You can only run for so long. You know this.

It was almost gentle... the way he held his hand to the hollow's chest. Reaching under the spoiled, moldy shreds and scraps of cloth. The cold silver of the gauntlet on his hand met the cold, putrid flesh, searching for something of worth. He felt like a lowly grave robber. Trying to find something, anything of note. Maybe this was the one. He prayed that this was the one.

A soft clink against his gauntlet took him by surprise, as if he had resigned himself to failure. His fingers clutched the object in question, tugging it upwards, over the now crushed, deformed head of the once... somewhat living hollow. The warrior clutched the chain that looped into the little ornament so carefully, so lovingly, it was as if he could see a vision of his past within it.

A small, golden amulet, inlaid with a rose gold halo. A simple thing, rather featureless, without embellishment.

"I'm sorry, my friend... Katherine, forgive me, I beg you..."

He knelt beside this body, hands upon long dead flesh, caressing the remains- rather, the vestiges of what could even be called features among the now destroyed, defiled flesh. Though there was a little mole, still visible below the left eye... barely recognizable, but visible.

He could still remember the life that filled those eyes. Not these atrophied, sunken holes that fell into nothing. The sweet, pink lips that beckoned him and called "come hither!", now reduced to teeth and blackened gums, and a twitching, bloated tongue.

He wished he could speak to her again. He wished, and wished, and wished again.

"I want her back... please, by the gods, give her back..."

He whispered, shucking his gauntlets off to feel the small bits of dried out, chestnut hair that clung to the withered scalp. Only for a moment. She was so lively, only a week ago, now reduced to this... thing. This horrible, screeching mimicry of her.

He felt a pain, deep in his core, his chest heaved, breath wheezing as he sputtered forth nonsense, trying to stop the tears that fell from his eyes.

Away, he crawled back to where he came from, like a beaten hound with its tail tucked under its body. Desperately, the warrior was clinging to the only reminder of the woman he once held so dear. A comrade. A confidant. A sister in arms. His closest friend.

He needed to go back. Back to the only place of safety, of repose, and of rest. The shrine waited for him, as did its lone Keeper. It had been so long since he had stepped foot within its great stone walls. He wanted a distraction. Someone to speak to of the journey, now behind him, someone to listen to him ramble and speak without direction.

If only to put this misery behind him, he would go. Surely, the dear Keeper missed him.

Suffice it to say, the warrior missed her as well. As he lifted himself to his feet, he retraced his steps, back to the distant embers of a fleeting comfort. The bonfire, calling him home with its familiar, flickering tune.

It had been too long since he had been away... After all, he did have a promise to keep.

"I will return for you, my lady."

"Promise me?"

With a smile, one shining through the darkness, the strife, and the misery of flight, the memory of platinum blonde hair, and warm hands- so scarred, yet so gentle, returned to him in choppy, foggy memories. With a vice-like grip, he clutched the old amulet in his hand as he felt his body set itself alight, and return to the flames, to be whisked away, back to the safety of home.

"I promise."