The Fire Within: A Dark Souls Tale

The Undead Settlement

"Stay back," Ciara said to Derek. The congregation, about thirty hollows in simple farmer's clothes, armed with pitchforks and machetes, had noticed their presence.

"Sure thing, Phoenix, but please be careful."

Oh? That was nice of him. She winked. "I promise. Now find cover." Her eyes darted from side to side, studying the town square, starting with the pyre at its center. Forty feet to the right, a wooden bridge hung above a wide cliff, and about twenty-five to the left, a stack of wooden barrels, most likely filled with flammables for the pyre, sat by a tall stone wall.

Ciara turned to the evangelist. The other woman, a towering, blubbery heap of flesh, carried a long, two-handed mace with a hefty metal spike on its bottom. Aside from her broad hat, she wore a bronze breastplate, a grotesque mask, a fluffy white ruff around her neck, and a layered long skirt. How redundantly pious.

"What a fun faith you have, killing every decent person in this settlement."

A bronze incense holder on the evangelist's belt clanged as she took a step forward, planting her mace in the dirt. "The weak will burn for the Deacons of the Deep," she said, her voice a morbid melody. "Execute that rat, and you shall be spared."

Ciara glanced at Derek, who was peeking from behind the ramshackle building they'd come from. She cracked her neck. "See, I sort of like that rat, and I hate bullies."

"Poor child." The evangelist pointed at her. "Bring me her corpse!"

A chorus of raging battle cries resounded throughout the square before the congregation charged. Even with her armor and skill, taking on thirty people was problematic. If they knocked her down and that mace-wielding lunatic could get a proper blow, it would all be over. Her best bet was to use those explosive barrels. Let's roll. As the most eager zealot rushed at her, swinging his machete, she drew her longsword and stabbed straight into his face. Black blood spurted on her before she set the sword aflame. The hollow emitted a screeching shriek. She kicked him into the crowd, burning, and broke into a sprint. The evangelist only gazed while her minions chased her around the gnarled tree. Upon reaching the other side. A scythe swung at her from the left, and she dive-rolled out of harm's way. Her armor's right pauldron had already carried multiple scratches from previous such moves. Ciara continued running, gathering the hollows into a column, but two broke from the group, trying to block her path. Slowing down would give the rest a chance to surround her, so she tilted her pauldron toward the first's pitchfork, taking the thrust. The tool shattered on impact.

The second leaped in the air, arms spread forward, trying to grab her. He missed, but as his body hit the ground, his grubby hand latched onto her heel. Forced to act, Ciara struck downward, severing his arm. Could be useful. She picked it and dashed to the barrels. One leap-roll, and she stood between the stack and the wall. Finally, the congregation understood there was a greater threat looming. They slowed down. Too late. Ciara kicked the barrels into the crowd. A couple crashed, spilling flammable liquid and powder on the first row of hollows.

Then, using the sword, she set fire to the stolen arm and threw it at the zealots.

Blam! The detonation blew half a dozen bodies away and set dry skin and bones alight. Panic settled on the congregation, and each member ran, trying to save their lives. One, burning from head to toe, charged right at her, screaming with a withered voice and flailing his arms. People didn't call her the Phoenix Knight for nothing, though, for a gilded flame stoneplate ring was boosting her fire resistance. Unimpressed, Ciara treated the hollow to a helmeted headbutt that turned his gaunt head into bone powder.