Lost Humanity (Dark Souls Fanfic)

Intro/Firelink Shrine

 A woman's voice is telling me to 'Wake', but I can't. I know I'm asleep, standing in the middle of brightness—bright white, filtered yellow—that stretches out in all directions. Her voice is accented, vaguely German, and reminds me of the small warmth of candles. I look around and everything is uniform. I can't tell where the ground separates from the sky; if the horizon line exists at all.

'Wake, child,' she says, and I do.

I come to with my head on the stones. Above, the roof is gone, revealing a grey sky, a canopy of leaves far above me. Everything smells mossy and heavy with distant decay. A wind runs through a half-blasted stone wall and I realize I am cold.

I get up, feeling at my arms. My head is slightly foggy, like I've slept a long time. I walk through the stone halls of this once-grand building, but time has worn away at any notable decoration. It's just a big pile of stones, really, and here and there are placed giant clay pots, as big as I am. I take a chance and open one, but nothing's inside. Just darkness and an awful dusty smell. After a while, I come across a huge pool of water, a football field in length or more, open to the air. Across it, I can see more stone, and behind it a great tree. It's huge, big enough that it makes up the entirety of the canopy I see above me. I hear crows honking and shudder, and turn away.

Finally, I find some stairs leading downward, and step into the daylight. It's gray and overcast outside, although it is a bit warmer. At the very center of a ruined hollow of stones, a man sits next to a roaring fire, facing me.

I turn back, hiding in the shadow of the doorway. But it's too late, he's seen me, and as he stands I see the long edge of the sword he has strapped to his side. Sword? My head clears enough to panic: where am I? What are people doing with weapons, old weapons?

"You there," he says. He's British, or English, or from somewhere I don't recognize. I press myself into the wall. "What are you doing?"

I consider running, but I feel drawn towards the place where he's sitting. I peek out again and the bonfire is mesmerizing, bright and orange and dancing and defined, even in the daylight. The longer I look, the more I need it. Hungrily, I walk forward, even as the man paces around, warily, his hand on the grip of his weapon. When I step closer, he relaxes. In rags, and without any noticeable weapons, I suppose I am not a threat.

I sit down next to the fire and put my hands out.

"Another lost wanderer?" he says. "But that can't be. An Undead without weapons...he's asking to go hollow, the fool."

The fire is doing strange things to my skin, bringing out the tan. I almost feel like I'm glowing.

"I can speak, you know," I say. My voice comes out dry and raspy.

"Oh, he can speak, he says." The man frowns. "And what are you doing to my bonfire?"

The little orange flames are dancing now. It's almost as if they're happy to see me.

"I don't know."

"Well, stop it. Things were bad enough before you came and started making a mess of things."

I give him a look, but he is staring sullenly into the base of the flames. When he doesn't move, I get up. Better to be alone than to deal with bad company. Up a little hill, a great aqueduct spans over a river, but strange men are pacing back and forth across the entrance, their jagged, broken weapons visible even from here. Instead, I take some circular steps downward and find myself on a lower floor. Things feel relatively safe here, so I sit.

The stones are less comfortable than the seat by the fire. I run my hands over my rags. They feel awful, like the burlap sacks you imagine people use to collect potatoes. Potatoes, potatoes, does this world have potatoes? The only thing I can find is a little pocket sewn in above the knee, where someone has given me a coin. It fits snugly into the palm of my hand. It has the face of a strange woman pressed into it, a woman with something covering her eyes.