The Monumental heard it from beneath the Nexus.

A collossal scream rended outward. Desperation clung to it. It tore through the halls and shot all the way into the upper chambers, where he, even in his frozen state, shivered.

It is done.

There was only one reason for a scream like that: The Old One's soul gatherers were gone. The last Archdemon had been slain.

He had served his purpose.

He breathed out, and when he did, it felt as though some life left him. Maybe it did. As all the willpower he'd been using declined, he realized that he, himself, was going with it.

He was somewhat ashamed of himself. He wanted to see it through to the end, to see the great victory he'd waited a thousand years for. But he was tired, and he was old, older than any single soul should ever be. He intended to blink, but when he did, his eyes did not open again.

And the last Monumental became nothing more than stone.

He stumbled down the stairs, and saw her sitting there. He expected her to turn her head, to look up at him, but he remembered, morbidly, how impossible that was.

"Thou art here," she said, simply.

He nodded. Then spoke. "Yes."

"The Archdemon beith slain?"

"Yes."

She clumsily got to her feet, using her rod to steady herself. He almost helped her, but stopped himself. Touching her would make it harder.

"Then come," she said, and started walking down the stairs.

There were a lot of things that occurred to him, as he walked with her, words he wanted to say. Why would you do this? Why the hell would you choose to confess love for me when you knew it would end like this? Or perhaps just: Maybe we could wait here, a little longer. The Old One isn't going anywhere. But it all seemed childish in the face of her absolution. She hadn't even considered those things. She was sacrificing their relationship, and wasn't even batting an eye at it.

So to speak.

"Wait," he said.

She stopped.

"I just..." he looked down. "I love you. You know that, right?"

She nodded.

"And...I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for everything."

"I am, too," she said. Then, "The Old One is calling for thee. We must hasten."

"But-"

He reached out. She just kept walking.

His land lowered.

"Hold mine hand," she said, when they reached the bottom of the stairs, and held it out for him.

"I don't understand," he said. "Where are we-"

And then, he heard it sliding down, saw it falling down from the top of the Nexus, the giant sword that the golden statue had been holding. It whished through the air and finally landed directly on top of the glass floor, covered in sigils, shattering it effortlessly, and leaving a hole. The impact was so great that it almost knocked him over, and he jumped back as shards of glass hit the floor around him. He felt the step in his injured leg.

"It is fine," The Maiden said, looking back at him. She held out her hand again.

He looked down at it, stared for a second. Then took it.

And the Maiden pulled him down with her. Into the darkness. The air flew past them, they plummeted, and he held her, as a light near the bottom grew in size. It suddenly occurred to him that he should be screaming. But, for some reason, nothing about this scared him. In fact, as he fell further down the hole, he only grew more comfortable. His fingers wrapped tighter around hers.

"I love you, too," he heard.

He looked back, and her lips were in a scared frown. And he realized that she didn't want to lose him either. She was just as scared as he was.

But, in living an eternity, you got used to losing people.

Then the light hit them.

When he came to, they were on a beach. He was on the ground. She was standing.

"Where are we?" he asked, and as he stood, he found that his legs were no longer injured. Or, if they were, he couldn't feel it. In fact, nothing hurt, nothing at all.

"Where do you think we are?" She asked. She entered the water, it lapped at her bare feet.

He looked around and saw destroyed relics, religious artifacts. Massive crosses and arches, and in front of them, he saw shallow water, with mist hanging over it. And, suddenly, he recognized it all.

"This is the place where...this is where it lived."

"When it was God. Yes," The Maiden said, and stepped forward, still.

"Don't drown yourself," he said.

She cracked a smile at that. "I know this place better than thee. I know it so well that I can feel where I am by my toes in the soil. Now, we shall wait."

He walked toward her. "Wait for...?"

But then he heard it. A gigantic rumbling that he felt in the water, in the air, in his soul. He felt with it the absolution, the joy, the completeness that he had felt in the past. But with it, he felt something twisted. There was a perversion to that beauty, now. It didn't sit right beneath his skin.

It came out of the fog.

Trees and branches sprouted off of it, jagged thorns and wood. Soil dripped from it. Birds nested in it, and took off flying as it came closer. It was the size of the entire Nexus, and it was flying.

He instinctively backed off, in fear, but the Maiden stood, as its great breath blew her braids from the back of her head, and her cloak out behind her.

"Old One," she said. "I have brought it for thee. Thine new demon."

It landed in front of them, and water splashed outward from its body. For a moment, it simply sat there. Then, its mouth stretched open. Within, there was a faint blue glow.

"Come," The Maiden said, and walked forward.

"We're...we're going inside of it?"

She turned. Smiled slightly. "Where didst thou think we were going?"

He stood still.

"Thou hast braved the Valley of Defilement, the strongest Archdemons ever to live, and thou fearest now?" She said.

He took a deep breath. "That thing could snap its jaw shut at any time. You know that. It could kill us if it just happened to feel like it."

"But it shant," the Maiden said. "For it is too desperate for souls to do so."

He took a step forward, and something drew him to it, despite all the things that pulled him away.

"Come," she said. "Touchest it. See that there is nothing to fear."

He walked up to The Old One, and ran his hand along it. He felt the electricity from a thousand souls, but something deeper within, an emptiness. And it had taken until now, but he finally realized what he was looking at, what he was really facing. It wasn't a monster, and it never would be. It wasn't evil. It was beautiful, and sad, desperately hungry for something it didn't understand, only that it wanted in a way it would never be able to control.

He noticed something hit his arm. It was one of his own tears.

"How could they do this...?" He whispered. "How could they?"

"All is not lost," she said. "The Old One mayeth know peace. Through sleep forevermore. This world doth not need Him, anymore...any more than it needs me. We are relics of a past when supernatural entities roamed this Earth freely, and as seen, nothing good cometh of our interactions with mortals."

His hand froze, as it rubbed the Old One's wooden ridges. "Nothing?" He asked.

She bowed her head, and bit her lip. "I am sorry."

He closed his eyes.

"I never belonged here, in this world. From the moment I was created, my purpose was to counteract the destruction of the Old One. To pacify it. To keep it asleep. I thought, that once it was asleep, I had performed mine duty...but The Soul Arts were not discovered from The Old One this time. There was only one place for King Allant to learn them...the Nexus."

"You." He said. "He discovered the Soul Arts when he found you."

She nodded. "I must sleep, too. In a realm of infinite dreams, and only there, I can do no harm."

"But..." he started.

"I know," she said. "I am sorry."

He still couldn't say anything. All the words seemed caught up. Finally, she said, "We must go, before another Archdemon takes your place. Come, I told you where we must enter."

And without waiting, she walked into The Old One's mouth.

He hesitated, then followed.

When he entered, he saw that she was caught on a bramble. It stabbed into her cloak, and she had trouble wriggling away from it.

"It's okay," he said. "I'll take care of it."

She gave him a half-hearted smile. "Much thanks. Thou knowst how I am with trees."

He didn't smile back. He didn't say anything. He just cut through the twigs, stomped them down when he could. They scratched against his skin, too. But he ignored them, and cut deeper in. The space became more and more closed in as they cut into it, but a small light within became even more visible. The glow seemed to pull him. He felt entranced by it, in a way that he had only ever felt in the past, when The Old One was god.

Finally, he cut his way into the chamber, and saw it there, the beautiful glow, at the opposite end.

But sitting in front of it was the final demon he would face.

A misshapen sludge-like form, carrying a sword.

"I was wondering when you would get here...boy." The Sludge said.

"...King Allant?"

"Yes..." It shambled toward him. Its voice seemed to gurgle out. "This is my true form. This is what becomes of those who drink too deeply from The Old One's maw...but I cannot stop. It is too wonderful."

"Are you...?" Nameless asked. "Are you going to try to fight me?"

"I will fight to the death...I will...because The Old One offers release. Release from all the pains of this world. From its emptiness. From all the suffering of our incompleteness. Embrace it, child...embrace..."

Nameless's lip curled.

"Do it," The Maiden said.

He looked at her.

"Give him mercy," she said.

"You cannot stop me..." Allant said, as he walked forward. "I am desire itself. I am the thirst within every man. I am-"

Nameless punched his dagger through the ooze's body. Then jabbed it a few more times for good measure. Finally, it keeled over, and then faded away into the fog.

"I am..." It said, and slowly, the voice drifted into a whisper. "I...I am."

"Another tragedy of The Soul Arts," said the Maiden.

"Allant killed his people. He murdered them by the thousand."

"But he liveth as all men do. He desireth, and when he did, he acquired his thirst. As a King of a powerful country, he could do that. He could take, and take...and take. And finally realize the emptiness in taking, the emptiness in having anything. He looked upon the abyss, and saw nothing behind it."

Nameless looked down at the darkness fading from his sword. Soon, nothing of Allant was left. Nothing.

He closed his eyes, and looked up again. When he opened them, the light was right in front of his face. Somehow a burning white, but not at all blinding.

"What is that?" He asked.

The Maiden smiled. "If it is what I think it is...then it's hope."

"Hope?" He asked.

She walked over toward the light, and ran her hands through it. The misty ends of it clung to her fingertips...and she grinned.

"I don't understand," he said.

"The Old One still maketh souls," the Maiden said, simply.

"But I thought it lost that power when we...when we took it," he said.

"No power is ever lost to soulessness," The Maiden said. "It hath not been used...until now."

"...Again, what is that?"

"A seed," The Maiden said, and ran her fingers through it. "A seed of the soul of God."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"We are looking at the thing that can save the world," she said.

"It's...it's recreating its own soul."

She nodded.

"The amount of power in that...the soul of God?" he wondered out loud.

"Immense power," she said. "More power than hath ever been put into a single soul before."

"It's coming back," he said. "Oh my...no, we can't put it to sleep. It's coming back."

She frowned. "No."

"What do you mean, you just said that it was-"

"Not within thy lifetime," she said. "Perhaps not within my lifetime."

"Then, we just..."

"We return The Old One to its slumber," she said. "And we hope. When it wakes up again, we hope it shall be restored."

He realized, then, how much relief he had felt up until that moment. Things really were going to be okay. He would still see her, and The Old One would return, God, Umbasa. The problems of the Earth would fade with its arrival.

But that all came crashing down yet again.

"I can use this," she said. "In this way, it shall be even easier to return The Old One to its slumber."

He watched as she walked over to The Seed, the most powerful soul in existence for thousands of years. As she put her hands into it, tinkered with it.

All that power. All of it.

"Now, thou must leave. I...am sorry," she said. The last words became a whisper.

After all this. She was going to leave him. After it all. He would be alone.

He looked down at his hand, and saw the faint glow of the soul arts, still clinging to it. They were inextricably linked to him, now. He had become an Archdemon in every way, except in the soul delivery. What would happen when the Soul Arts faded? What would be left of him.

"I apologize," she said. "But...I do not need thee, now. Thank you, for thy help...but...leave quicker, and it shall hurt less."

He walked toward her, though, not away. His hands stretched out.

"What art thou doing?" She whispered.

He didn't say anything. He needed to get close to her. He needed her to not be able to escape it. If he failed, she would realize, she would push him away.

"Thou must go..." She said. "Thou must. If thou dost not leave, then-"

He cut her off.

Her mouth twisted in silent pain. She looked down, and saw his arms. Extended outward. Wrapped around her.

He was hugging her from behind.

"I..." She whispered. "You know I cannot cry."

"You don't have to," he said, warmth filled his voice. "I'm not going."

"What?"

"There's nothing back out there, for me," he whispered. "But...in here, there's you. I'll stay here. I'll stay with you."

"Thou wilt die," she said. "Thy lifespan will end a thousand times over before The Old One wakens again...if it ever does."

"I don't care, anymore, about The Old One, or the Soul Arts. Or Boletaria. I don't care about Demon's Souls. I..." He held her tighter. "I care about you. And if I have to die of old age while you dream...then fine. Fine, because I'll be with you."

"I can't allow it," she said.

"You don't have to. It's my choice."

He walked over, and stood next to her, in front of the seed.

"I think...but I'm not sure..." he said. "...I think that time passes strangely, here. I think that I can sleep without death paying a visit. I honestly feel that...I could sleep here for thousands and thousands of years."

"Thou art mortal," she said.

"Am I?" He looked at his hand, at the energy radiating out from it. "I've died at least forty times. I've taken the souls of five of the most powerful demons to ever live. But they aren't the only ones. Hundreds of thousands of human souls are inside of me. I can feel them, there."

He saw her bite her lip, again.

"If anyone is immortal, then I am."

"This...this was my sacrifice," she said.

"It still is. But you won't make it alone."

And he wrapped his arms around her again. He moved behind her.

"Do it," he said. "Put it to sleep...and we'll sleep with it."

She waited. Her hands frozen. But then his hands moved along her arms, and when he reached her fingers, they intertwined.

"Now."

He let go, and she went to work, weaving and working on what was left of the Old One's mind, calming it, freezing it, stilling.

He felt it, from outside. The great giant sliding back down the coast, off into the water, closing its mouth as it did. Somehow, the rumbling wasn't enough to pull him away from her. He stood, his chin nestled into the gap between her shoulder and her neck, as it carried them away.

She turned, and kissed him. He directed her head so that she didn't miss.

The candle-rod she had been carrying fell to the ground as she wrapped both her arms around his neck. Its flame dimmed a few times, then extinguished. And the only light being provided now was the glow of the Old One's seed.

He didn't remember how long they stood there, perhaps a year, perhaps an eternity. Time had started out funny, and grew moreso as The Old One went deeper into the lake. But eventually, they went down to their knees, and then to the wet ground. Not cold and wet, but warm, soft, like a bath.

He lied next to her, holding her hand, as his eyes dropped, and as the lethargy took them. The dreams came before the sleep.

Someday, perhaps, the seed would grow, the Old One's soul would return, and it would awaken not as a demon, but as a savior. Closing the gaps in humanity, and bringing the world to a golden age, instead of a dark one.

Someday, perhaps, humanity would be prepared to allow it to, without being overtaken by desire, and thirsting for its power. For they were cursed to ruin it unless they proved themselves to truly deserve it.

Someday, perhaps, the Maiden would be able to live in this world, find who she truly was, a girl or a demon, without attracting hatred and fear. Without being forced to give out dark powers to whoever demanded them.

And finally, someday, maybe, he would be able to walk that same world feeling like a person, instead of the fragment of one.

But until that day, they would sleep.

Sleep.

So that when they woke, the world might be mended.