A distant ringing called, emanated alongside the first rays of sunlight. In an opened grave, ashes began to stir as an armored figure arised slowly like a puppet pulled from its box. The soft light was blinding his barely awakened eyes.

"The Flame?" he thought, still hazy and pained from the memory of a past ordeal.

A short moment of recovery made him more aware of his surroundings. And no, there was no fire in sight. The radiance was of natural sunlight. It wasn't coming from a reinvigorated First Flame.

The man's thoughts weren't foggy anymore, which was appreciated. HIs situation however, wasn't clear yet. He believed he had been burned alive. Fully dead. Having failed in his attempt to bring the world back into an Age of Fire, the First Flame had consumed his body in retaliation. He perfectly remembered the searing pain of the heat that melted his bones. It had made him faint despite his constitution. But now, he was whole, in a whole other place.

He took a heavy first step out of the stone container, then took off his helmet. The action let his long blond hair and his shaved skin breathe once again. A long horizontal scar was visible next to his left eye, whose pupils were colored of a deep blue. He seemed to be in the peak of his youth. Although, since he was of the Undead, age was something that couldn't be known from looks alone.

By taking the metal off, the young man noticed how different his headwear was from his recollection. It was a knight's helm to be sure, but an ordinary one. Not engraved or reinforced. But most importantly, this was not his original wear. His chest-piece, leggings and gauntlets were also unfamiliar. Surprised by this strangeness, he quickly looked around for his true belongings. Failing to find them, he searched for a culprit. But there was no-one in sight. This theft irritated him greatly.

"What madness is this ? Who dares treat an heir of Fire like so!" He clenched his fists and clicked his tongue against this ignominy. This simple display of rage was made in vain, however, as no target could bear this grudge. Exhaling his frustration away, the bereaved warrior decided to ascertain his situation. First, was the workings on his new attire: He didn't remember seeing this design before. Though the metal was made from good steel and covering his body efficiently, its lack of resilience and prolonged use was obvious. He was a noble. Not some common recruit destined to wear old chunks from his elders.

He had acquired new weapons as well. A simple longsword and a large metal shield were affixed to his side and back respectively. Simple and in decent shape, he might defend himself at least. He decided he had stayed idle long enough. Perhaps there were hidden trinkets around.

The newly attired knight walked in a circle to analyze his immediate surroundings, prudent. That place was strange, trapped between rocky hills surrounding a barren land. There were gravestones embedded on those hills, and mounds of ashes were spread here and there alongside the occasional high grass. A small body of water could be seen downhill, and the dim sky was laced with clouds. The grey was dominant. Nothing of interest was visible except for the stone coffin he had emerged from. It had been placed below a dried tree and was filled with ashes of uncertain origin. There were no symbols nor writings to indicate its provenance or purpose. A shame. All had been learned and still no one had come into view. It was time to walk away and seek shelter...

He had barely taken a step forward, that the powerful noise of a bell stopped him in his track. A long and grave noise. A familiar tune, but he couldn't quite remember when he heard it last. As if answering the call, the stone of another coffin on his left fell hard on the ground. Its occupant had awoken too. Two fists could be seen emerging from it, extended in triumph.

"Mwahahahaha! I'm really Ardent now! I'm... Wait, what ?" said a fruity voice.

It seems the rampage was from a man. A living man. This excited newcomer jumped out of the stone box and landed heavily on the ground right before the surprised knight. The busterly stranger was bigger than most men. He was clad in interwoven chainmail and leather straps. His boots and gloves were of thick leather, something adapted to colder surroundings. An iron shouldergard and a an opened helm completed the set.

A long red-beard as bright as a flame was spewing out of his cheeks and upper lips, and his chiseled visage gave off an aura of raw power. No mere fighter was he.

Once on the ground, the powerful man looked left and right quickly. He immediately noticed the other Ash-risen. Which brought a smile on the stranger's face.

"Oh. Hello little knight. No need to be anxious, I'm friendly. Eh... Sorry to barge out like this. Why are you here ?" said the biggest man in the entire graveyard.

"I know not. But I fear neither do you." answered the knight, letting go of his sword.

Confidently, the man stroked the only shaved area of his chin.

"Oh ? What makes you think that ? We're at the Kiln of the First Flame and I just restored the Fire once again! There's ash around, some rocks... Though I don't remember all those graves being there before... And is that water ?"

A moment of reflexion made the big man reconsider. He sighed violently before admitting his mistake.

"We are not at the Kiln, are we ?"

Closing in on his encounter, the chevalier tried to ascertain their thoughts.

"The name is correct. I believe you refer to the sacred area where Lord Gwin's sacrifice took place. And this strange place doesn't appear to be it. The Kiln presented hills of ash and molten pillars, would such a sight be familiar to you ?" he elaborated.

"Hills of ashes ? Pillars ? That's strange. I remember it differently. No pillars and only one big pile between some rocks, but it was definitely called the Kiln of the First Flame."

The conversation was creating more questions than answers. The young knight thought it best to answer some of those forthwith.

"No matter. Tis high time I presented myself." he bowed slightly: "My name is Aroth of Carim. There are some who call me the Arklaw."

Brutally placing his fist on his heart, the unknown Undead gave an answer.

"Well met Ser Aroth. I am Alrof the Ardent! Proud member of the..."

He stopped his introduction in its track when the sound his fist produced was deemed unfamiliar. Confused, the bearded fellow looked at his vestment for a short moment. A stunned look engulfed his face. Frenetically examining the rest of his equipment, and closing his eyes in a meditation, the red-haired giant finally screamed:

"My armour! Faraam save me! My armour is lost!"

Opening his eyes, he then tried to reach for something on his back, but empty air was all he could grasp. This called for another outburst of despair.

"My axe! My dear Dragonair!" he howled.

The man looked extremely distressed. That was understandable. Aroth himself had gathered many remarkable items and weapons on his journeys. And this man had been robbed of them all just as well. The honorable knight tried to appease his encounter:

"Sorry friend. I too have had my belongings exchanged. Were yours truly precious ?"

The saddened brawler shared his plight:

"The armour... Not precious as you usually think. It was standard issue, but my big brother reforged it as a gift. He had my sigil and initials carved into it to celebrate my admission. As for the axe, It was made from a dragon's throat. Blast it all..."

Transparent pearls were slowly forming under Alrof's eyes, and were immediately wiped away by furry sleeves. It was obvious how a great amount of emotion was embedded into the lost apparatus.

A noise attracted both men's attention before they could continue the conversation. A shadowy figure had emerged from behind the stone-filled hills. It was balancing itself above the thin layer of water. The big cape covering it couldn't mask its true form from the true warriors. They recognised the thin limbs, the dried skin, and the dark empty eyes; twas an Undead that lost its own soul. A Hollow. The tall warrior named Alrof wiped his face and looked at the fiend with a piercing gaze. A hunter watching new game.

"Hollows uh. So I failed to lift the Curse too. Darn." he said, already placing his axe at the ready.

Aroth noticed how the axeman had left a wooden shield on his back, Aroth figured he was used to heavier weapons.

The knight replaced his helmet on his head. Better safe than sorry. And now unsheathed his longsword, taking the lowered stance he had trained under for many years. He commented on the situation.

"The Undead Curse has no cure, I'm afraid. What say you friend ? Let us depart and search for a place to converse in peace ?"

"You got it. Don't you move now, I got some anger in the arms."

Leaving it to the new recruit, was it ? Aroth extended his sword-hand in approbation, and witnessed the barbarian lunging forward, with the caped Undead as a target.

Alrof lifted his axe in one hand, but his movements slowed before he reached the lesser foe, a strange motion. He didn't stop completely but entered another stance instead, carrying his battle-axe with two hands now. Had he miscalculated its weight ?

The bearded man seemed to cringe a moment as he used all his strength to bring down his weapon at the perfect time. Black blood was sprayed on the water. And the caped corpse fell on its back. The enemy had been slain in a single well-placed hit. The victor, however was anything but celebrating.

"By my forefathers! I lost my strength!" complained Alrof as he was still staggering from the effect of his wide movements.

This news was quite alarming for the young knight, who asked plainly:

"How so ?"

Alrof recovered a little bit of breath as the knight joined him. He pointed at the floating carcass with his free hand.

"Well for one, that Hollow is still in one piece. And this axe, I could normally wield it like a feather, but it's not possible now. And I can feel its sturdiness, simple steel, unimproved by any blacksmith. I really lost strength."

Indeed. Now that he thought about it, the fully plated armour weighted heavily upon Aroth's shoulders. He who had worn the strongest metal with no handicap. Could it be ? Those that took their equipment had also extracted souls that they had fed to their bodies ? Inconceivable!

Nervously, the blond-haired warrior proposed a new approach.

"Let us find a bonfire as soon as possible. Who knows what manner of creature awaits us still."

"Hurm..." grumbled the debilitated axeman in what sounded like an approval.

They advanced along the unmoving water. On the right path was a dead end. And above was the end of a giant wall. Masoned out of hewed stones by human hands it would seem. There were some protuberances high above, but nothing to indicate a point of entry. No need to waste time trying to climb around here. They turned back.

The hills were strangely empty in some points in-between the somber rocks, as if big objects had been removed recently, leaving dirt and dust behind. But they proceeded nonetheless.

Arriving at a larger area, they battled four more shriveled Undead. Aroth had joined the fray this time. No need to risk his new ally being overwhelmed.

The Hollows reacted well as they still knew the art of battle. Though stronger and tireless in death, they proved no match against the experienced warriors. The fact that the creatures' weapons weren't in great shape and that old robes were their only protection aided to their demise.

With the enemies slain, they could focus on the obvious point of interest. Next to an immense chalice, in the middle of the crossroad, was an untouched corpse of a dead knight. Aroth kneeled next to the fallen.

"I recognize the armor. Astora. Rest in peace countryman... Your duty has ended."

Part of the comment intrigued Alrof: "Didn't you say you were from Carim ?" he inquired.

As Aroth brushed off the dust of the calm cadaver, he also brushed off the question.

"It's complicated, I shall share the tale. Can you see where that glow is coming from ?

"Sure do. He has something... Ah."

Reaching to the knights body, Alrof grabbed the air, and a blue flask appeared as if forged from his own will. The big man explained:

"He had those tied to his soul, a good amount."

The item was familiar, but neither of the two were certain as to what substance it contained. Aroth took the one the bruiser was handing to him. He examined it intently, making it spin around in his metal hands. The for was identical to the Estus Flask Undead carried with them to recover from wounds in seconds.

"This is... A strange color for an Estus. Its shape is quite normal. Do you believe it may be poison ?" he wondered.

"No idea. Let's hold on to them until we know what to do with them. I can sell them if we can't find what they're for. I know a guy in Majula."

"I do not think either of us are in the lands we came from, warrior Alrof."

"Yeah... Good point."

Now that they were both back on their feet, the knight gave his thoughts:

"Agreed... Now then, I have a long history of exploring new and dangerous grounds. We should go on the right, behind those small ruins. And we keep on going right until we reach an impasse or have made a circle. That way, we can..."

A new noise could be heard before the sentence was finished. Another bell toll, stronger than the last, and lasting longer as well.

"I think I heard that before... Is it getting stronger ?"

Once it had ended, the sound of something great and sturdy falling could be heard from the left, similar as to when Alrof had been freed from his resting place. Pointing themselves towards it, they prepared themselves.

The two companions saw a lightly armored man stepping out of a ruinous building. He had more meat on his bones than an Undead husk.

The newcomer was helmeted and presented a steel plastron on his bust. He wore simple gloves and trousers weaved in white cloth. The new arrival saw them below, and headed down the small staircase to lead to the chalice. His face inexpressive, he showed empty hands while his weapons, a spear and an iron shield, were glued to his back. Was definitely not a Hollow, and not a raving madman at least.

"Pardon my interruption. Are you forlorn? Would you accept my joining you?" asked the stranger, in a monotone voice.

The man was in his late-thirties and had short brown hair. His square face presented a small tattoo on the forehead, shaped in a white circle whose shape remind Aroth of the sigil of the Way of White. The younger knight gave his answer.

"We might. Tis a strange land where we meet one warrior after another. What do you recall from before your awakening?"

"I recall fire. The touch of the flames on my arm, intensifying and eating me whole. I recall my failure."

"You were a Chosen, like ourselves."

"I was... The Flame didn't choose me."

The herald lowered his arms as he went down the steps.

"I am a herald. My oath as a protector urges me to help you." he insisted.

"Are there more of you ?" asked Alrof.

Pavel looked the way he came from, carefully keeping his hands above his shoulders. It took him a moment to make sure of his words.

"No, I awoke in a stone coffin encircled by the walls you see on your right. But if there are more of us? I truly cannot say... I am Pavel, servant to the the Way of White. I repeat, I wish you no harm."

The two men lowered their guards and allowed the newcomer to ease. The knight greeted him with a short bow.

"Well met Ser Pavel." He looked up and down to evaluate the calm lancer. The spear on his back was very simple. An uneven wooden shaft with a raggedy piece of cloth below the steel. Not a weapon that might pierce mighty beings, especially those who protect the First Flame. The armor, only covering the chest, was just as inferior. The conclusion was obvious: "I suspect those are not your normal belongings."

Looking at his gear for an instant, a slight movement of the clergyman's eyebrow was the only visible reaction he produced.

"I didn't steal them, they were all I had on me or within me when I arised..."

"He looks like a nice fellow. Let him join and lets return to the exploring business." asserted Alrof. Awaiting more action and less words.

Aroth nodded

"Yes. Was there anything of value around you friend ? Another path ?"

"No, just the hills. The way ahead and the way you described as right are all there is left unexplored." explained the serious man.

"On we go then."

And so the three Ashen warriors departed to right. Where a sleeping Hollow was waiting for them. But Alrof's axe to the head made him rest in a more permanent fashion. His two companions didn't even need to react.

they passed a flooded passage, uncomfortable because of the absorbing properties tissue on Pavel and Alrof's trousers. At any rate, they reached another opened area, like a small clearing in this forest of graves. In the back were two interesting things. A corpse that emitted a white light, and an enormous lizard covered in crystals. Something none of the trio had ever seen.

They silently crawled into the few specks of grass available, and started conversing anew.

"What is that monstrosity ?" whispered Aroth.

"We take the right you said. You didn't expect this did you ?" joked Alrof.

The crystalized creature was standing in ambush. In front of it, the slight glow over a corpse indicated the presence of souls, or at least something they could extract from the unmoving Undead.

They started discussing how they should proceed.

"If we take care of it, I am certain we will acquire much souls and a sizable bounty. It looks like an evolved version of a cowardly crystal lizard. Nothing three champion of the Fire can't handle." proposed Pavel.

"Sadly, our awakening here has left us in a weakened state. I don't think we should take the risk. You know how fast those things are, and this one is much larger."

"What do you mean by 'weakened state'?" inquired the spear-wielder.

"Go on, try lifting your spear or show off your skill. You'll understand." said Alrof.

Still hidden in the greenery, Pavel entered a praying stance.

"I'd rather prepare us for battle." he said as he closed his eyes.

From nothingness, the herald took a small talisman made of woven cloth, and prayed a moment... a long moment. Nothing happened, no illumination from the talisman or its user.

"Good riddance... Spells and miracles don't work either." sighed the muscular man.

His voice still monotonous, the miracle-user expressed his concern.

"I thought I could... I have cast miracles before, I remember the feeling of using them, so why can't I invoke the gods ?" his voice was quivering. Not good, men of faith grow more vulnerable to despair than others when the gods don't answer them.

"It is not them, it is you. Can you fill the souls that connected you to their strength ? Those with whom you had become one ? They have been extracted." supposed Aroth

"So you think..."commenced Pavel

A great sound stopped their thinking process. Another Bell toll. The noise was starting to get painful. The lizard didn't seem inconvenienced though it moved his head on the direction it was emanated from.

Sadly, that direction included the group.

Thankfully, something else aggroed the monster before he could notice them. Thankfully for the group only.

A stone slab had fallen with great violence in the middle of the area. A grave had been opened once again. Its occupant, a blue clad figure with a shaven head stumbled out with curiosity in the eyes.

The lizard wasn't blind nor deaf, sadly. It immediately charged its newfound prey. Rolling out with its crystal spikes perforating the grounds. Noticing the advancing crystal wheel in time, the sky-colored Ashen one dodged with a quick side step. Having missed its mark, the monster paused a moment as he hit the walls of the ashen hills.

"WHY YOU LITTLE!" yelled the aggressed warrior with a high-pitched voice. Now drawing a steel mace and using it against the thick skin of the monster. BUt the lizard waved its arms with great violence in retaliation. The cleric blocked the blow with a small blue shield but lost balance in the process.

"We must help this poor soul!" screamed Aroth.

As a single body, the three men charged towards the monster with their weapons drawn. The new arrival was already engaging the enemy. Proceeding to crush the extended limbs of the animal.

The arriving group ran much too close to the creature however. Noticing them between its scales, the lizard's long tail was used as a whip on all three of them. Aroth and Pavel had successfully blocked the sudden blow with their shield and were merely unbalanced. Alrof had barely avoided the blow but a protubering crystal had managed to slice his left arm. The wound was quite deep.

"Godforsaken loss of speed..." he mumbled behind grinding teeths.

No time to think. They spread out on all sides of the monster in order not to imper each other's actions.

Piercing with a spear. Slicing with a sword. Hacking with an axe. Massacring with a mace. The creature was staggered quickly and opened its jaws as if trying to breath anew. The party didn't let this chance pass. The mace-wielder struck it true. The blow sent the animal towards Pavel who lodged his spear deep into its throat while Alrof landed a skyward strike on its upper mouth. Aroth's flurry stopped hitting its mark as the creature faded away.

The beast had been slain. And each of them felt souls penetrating their essence. An indescribable feeling. Though the amount wasn't very impressive.

The assisted robed one could be clearly seen now. A young lady with a brown tattoo around her left eye, with white bandages on her arms and legs. She showed a bald head and brown eyes, a peculiar sight for any of the rescuers. Out of nowhere, she pulled a strange scale made from the lizard they had slain. She was chosen as the recipient for its soul-bound treasure apparently.

Watching the strange material in her hands, she addressed it as if the monster was still among them.

"Twas no way to treat a daughter of the Sun, Ô sparkling one." smiled the young lady while removing the dirt from her blue dress.

"No, twas not. Are you well milady ?"

Turning towards those who had assisted in her victory, the young cleric nodded.

"A bit bruised by flying rocks. But your companion needs truer assistance. Come to me."

A regular Estus flask in hand, Alrof came closer to the bald-headed cleric.

"I should warn you missy, miracles and spells don't work after awakening from those coffins."

"Verily ? Not even the most basic of prayers ?"

"I am not certain. You could try a simple Heal." inquired Pavel

Reaching to her side, the lady grabbed a cold golden bell. Bringing it to her face, she shared her disappointment.

"Oh... My personal talisman is gone too. But the Sun itself shall never abandon its follower."

Kneeling gracefully, the woman was now shining slightly. After a small moment, she rung her rustic bell and a circle of light was produced. It was a familiar sight for all present here. A true miracle of the gods.

The wounds on each one's body were closing. Not completely, but at least Alrof's bleeding had stopped.

"And the corpse ?" asked Alrof

Pavel had approached it alone. Reaching his hand into the dead man's chest. The white light was transferred to the herald's left hand.

"Only a soul, I'll hold on to it. And I believe I will be able to produce a miracle too. Only, not one that might help any of you directly." answered Pavel

"Understood." said Aroth. At least the follower of the Way of White would prove more dangerous a foe for any who would attack the group.

"My person be Zealous, Zealous Aveny. Tis a name I was given to represent how devoted I am to the great and benevolent body that never truly disappears."

Alrof was confused

"What great body ? I mean you look fine if you meant..."

"The SUN!" shouted Aveny with great pride. Emoting the well known salute to the celestial wonder. Forming a Y and extending her feet ashard as she could. A very satisfying process it would seem.

Aroth didn't react, though a warmth entered his heart. Pavel nodded and smiled for the first time since he had joined the group. Alrof face looked like it said "Oh, you're one of those."

Getting themselves back on track, Aveny joined the party. Sharing what had happened on the way back to the corridor, the four companions were smiling. If they had to be stranded here after failing in their quest of Linking the Fire, at least they had found good company.

Back in the corridor, the group heard a Hollow's howling coming from the remaining path. They immediately headed out to meet their foe.

To their surprise, a Hollow was indeed present, but it was already Dead. The thicker part of a wooden club lodged in its mouth. Its killer was on the left and already leaving. It turned towards them. Fallen graves and rocks were blocking the sight of his body. The blond knight observed his visage.

A familiar visage. He had long and straight black hairs, an unkept beard, and great muscles despite his slim figure. His skin was greatly whittened and his visage was most beautiful. For Aroth, there was no mistake as to his identity.

"Amon!" he shouted in anger.

"That voice..."

Removing his helmet once again, Aroth advanced towards this hated person with hurried steps.

"Well well... Greetings, Brother." said the encounter with crossed arms and a peaceful face.

Both had recognised an old acquaintance. This reaction didn't stop Aroth from , on the contrary.

"Don't call me that you... you..."

His sword already removed from its scabbard, Aroth stopped himself when he fully noticed his enemy. Not hidden behind graves anymore, he could see his foe was unarmed. Unprotected also. Very unprotected. Which made the Arklaw blurt the obvious.

"You have no clothes ?"

"Very observant." looking at his armoured brother, the underdressed noble sighed and continued.

"You were always most lucky. Now, put your weapon away 'old friend'. Our situation requires help from any source. You are smarter than that. I am unarmed, my little club is still lodged in"

"Only you could have brought us here, murderer. Did you adopt a new twisted sense of fashion ?" asked Aroth, his sword still in hand.

"Think for a moment, if you can. There is no way I could manage such a thing. And you know better than to assume I would willingly wear a loincloth only. I came to my senses some time ago only to find myself completely deprived, except for some primitive weaponry. Much like you I wager, you look like a new recruit. I don't suppose you have spare clothes to share ?"

The man's confidence was staggering. It was as if the four arrivals were the ones naked. That man was not a brittle sort.

"Can't you just, take some ? Your white skin is blinding me..." said Alrof while scratching his red beard.

"Your companion sounds still confused. Freshly out of the grave I wager. We are Undead. Only what has been infused with souls can be interacted with. And apart from ashes and wind, there is nothing to pilfer. To my dismay."

The ash-skinned fighter removed the wooden mass from the skull of his victim. He then pulled the dead Hollow's carcass into the void. Appreciating the spectacle, Amon continued.

"I've been murdering those weak creatures for items, but so far I only gathered objects of no interest."

"Then you'd have no qualm with showing them." demanded Aroth, his muscles stiff and ready for any sudden movement.

"Annoying... Put down your sword and I'll gladly share what I earned in battle."

Reluctantly, Aroth sheathed his longsword and let Amon deposit a few items on the ground, seemingly out of nowhere. One of the assets of being Undead. There was a few bombs, some wriggling souls, and a cleric's bell.

"This is the same one I have ? It really doesn't feel blessed by the gods..." said Aveny, pensively. The rest of the group ignored her comment.

Now closer to Amon's face, Aroth noticed the tattoo that had been placed over his left eye. Interlinked black lines that formed a great labyrinth.

"I see your mark of exile still serves its purpose."

"So you say."

"Body carvings stayed fixed apparently. Like miss Aveny's tattoos, and maybe mine too ? You'll have to tell me once we find a good spot. You too are family uh ?" asked Alrof.

"Of a sort." Amon says

"If you consider patricides as part of the fold." Aroth retorts

An awkward silence ensued. Broken by the strong axeman, thankfully:

"I have a brother too. Or had. He got eaten by a big drake."

"Anyway, are you alone among those graves ? You seem to have been here longer than us." asked Pavel.

"Not too long, I just kill quickly. Weapons are but a tool for on with my experience. To answer your question, no. Apart from pathetic Hollows with broken swords and sticks, I saw a peculiar old man sleeping next to a tree, not too far from here. He should still be there."

"And you didn't try to bother him ?"

"Not all people are as hospitable as you, 'Lord of Carim'. But I digress. Bonfire ahead, let us discuss there."

Another pike. But Aroth restrained himself. So far, Amon had been cooperating, and his companions didn't know either enough to take a side. More importantly, a bonfire was near. Finally.

"Praise the Sun! A bonfire! Let us go at once everyone. Then we'll assist the poor soul. The more of us, the better the chances of leaving this place unscathed." said Aveny, determined.

"Agreed." answered Pavel.

"Aye" continued Alrof.

As the rest of the Ashen ones headed up the hill, Aroth pondered.

That murderous scum is here too... How many of us are still asleep ? What manner of land is this ?