This is a dramatized and somewhat exaggerated retelling of a coop playthrough that a friend and I did of the Dark Souls III mod, "The Convergence".
Many screenshots have been taken for the exclusive purpose of this retelling, as I did not intend to make it a screenshot playthrough originally. Certain details might not be exact, and some segments may be abridged. This is for the sake of storytelling and a smooth experience between locations.
I will be following the name "Sir Bard" for this thread, to keep things "easy to follow".
This story follows one and a half men, as they struggle to traverse the land of Lothric and learn their purpose in their own world. It is not a story that was planned out, nor' is it a story of either oppressive darkness or great triumph of light. It is one of guilt, repentance, confusion, and grief. It has been written in its entirety in one night, during an episode of sleep deprivation. Do not expect high art or perfect grammar.
[Chart] We had 11839 unique visitors this November.
Console:
X
CLEAR CONSOLE
/vg/ - Video Games
0.jpg
(321.40 KB
1600x900
)
Edit
I awoke, one terrible, terrible morn', within a stone coffin of my own making. I did not yet understand what had led me to this fate. Ashes fell from my body as vibrations of power coursed through the air. A bell was calling for me; and thusly, I stood from my grave. I knew only one thing of myself; I was a man of the cloth. As I climbed out of my tomb I saw fire burning, great and strong all around me. The sun beat down on a landscape of root and ash, as fire tore away at the sky. Smoke filled my lungs, but yet I rose. A blade was gripped in my right hand, and a relic of my past in the other. Of this place I knew only one thing; I must escape.
I hurried myself out of my resting place and swiftly found myself face-to-face with some force of undead! A great number in fact, and I fought heartily. As I made my way though corridors of root, a red sky above me, I stumbled upon a lone tree with a singular poor soul resting beneath it. This man had not seen life in many years, and his gift was centered upon him for me to take. A potion, of which would restore my connection with the unearthly forces whenever drunk. An important keepsake.
I continued to battle my way through these shambling remains of men, until I found myself in a coliseum structure. Within this structure, a great and terrible beast revealed itself to me! It was larger than any bear, faster than a horse, stronger than even a griffin! Flame burned underneath its fur and within its throat, which it spat at me with vicious intent. Within this coliseum I bested this beast. Slit straight through its throat and poured out the magma within it. As quickly as the beast arose from its position to slay me, it had been laid dead.
Past this creature, a path led me to a large, chapel-esque building. I wondered if this was the church I was in service to, but as I entered its main chamber I understood immediately that it was no chapel. No, this was a gathering place, for the lost and hopeless. I spoke with a woman there who informed me of my nature-- that I was to find five Lords, and slay them. She told me my name was Kristos, and that I was created for this purpose. I am a priest, an ex-preacher, but also a Paladin of the Grim March. It was my duty to seek out the undead, and those who proliferate their creation, and put a stop to those forces. To know Death, and embody it fully, for those whom deserve it most-- The Ashen Lords, who fled from their thrones. This was not a position I believed I could take. I know who Kristos is, and I am no lord slayer. A survivor perhaps, a priest in another life, but not a hero. Thusly, she led me forward, towards a new land by which I might find a different purpose. I collected my own equipment, and a variety of tools given to me by the people of the shrine, and I left.
I was quite frankly disappointed when her path led me to the walls of a castle, tall and looming in the distance. Here, I was sure only to find MORE bloodshed! She assured me that this was, in fact, the only path forward. Bollocks I say to that! In my huff I searched and sought, but indeed found no other reasonable path around this fortress, and so I resigned myself to my fate and stepped further into battle. Soldiers and knights of all sorts awaited me, all of which I slew. Regretfully, none of them seemed interested in conversation, and even fewer listened to reason. It seems that this land has been afflicted with some form of awful curse, that has rendered nearly all its inhabitants walking corpses. Some had even been transformed into trees, which the other men pray to! I simply let the fountain of questions entering my mind at the time slip from me. All I sought was a warm bed...
As I climb down the wall, I find what can only be described as a small, ethereal tree. White in color and with pink leaves, I do not recognize it. Within its base was inscribed a small poem, "From Ash and Abyss, Your Devotion Leads you On, To Iced Heresy". I did not understand what it meant.
Even further down the wall, I enter a large chamber and discover what can only be described as a demon, clad in armor and horror. Half man half beast, this absolutely gigantic creature breathed ice upon me instead of fire, as the last. I had nary' a moment to pity my situation before the creature nearly bashed me into a mushy mess with its mace! Out of desperation, I climbed onto its cold, icy back and slit its throat as I did the previous monster, this time with much more efficacy than my shoddy attempts prior. Upon doing so, I continued down this path, and discovered a large, yet crumbling bridge that led me downwards into a village. I followed this path gleefully, hoping that I might find a sane man yet.
Across the bridge and down the valley I went, but only horrors awaited me ahead. Large, laughing women with zombified dogs in tow slew hordes upon hordes of poor, defenseless... I could hardly call them men anymore. Gigantic men carrying saws in their hands and cages filled with corpses on their backs. This wasn't random, human cruelty, these were beasts. Monsters, eating and killing each other for sport, and for food. The stench of death and a murder of crows filled the air, burning my mind the whole way through this hellish place. Upon first entrance I watched as a strangely large fellow topped upon a tower in the distance fired arrows into the sky, only for them to land mere blocks away. Some made landing in far off places, I imagined. As I slowly creeped my way through these ruined, destroyed streets, I see something peculiar off in the distance-- a wolf, glowing green! It howls at me and disappears, almost beckoning me to follow. I do, and I swiftly find myself in a rather unfortunate position-- not only are the undead crawling out of their graves to bring me with them into the afterlife, but the giant atop the tower is assisting them! His arrows are so large they pierce the ground and tear it apart, which explains the gigantic hole within the village.
I continued to follow the wolf until it led me to a great and nearly empty clearing. It stood nobly, with whomever must be its owner. A rather large fellow, hunched over and in druidic robes. When I called out to him to make conversation, he turned to me and his eyes filled with rage! I'm not exactly sure what I expected, but he attacked me instantly. In the middle of the fight, the giant began to rain arrows on the both of us again! He nearly struck the large druid I was fighting and suddenly the ground beneath us both began to crumble and fall apart! As it turns out, there was a rather large chasm underneath our chosen arena, and we both fell directly into it. The man was killed instantly upon landing, but I unfortunately survived. Underneath this arena was a rather confusing sight-- trees! Hidden underground, paired with strange green lightning bugs that lit the area thoroughly. Along the stone walls were shelves, filled with lit candles and strange, small tunnels that dug deep into the earth.
This tree... it had a strange energy. A strong vibrating power, that made your legs and arms feel like they were made of a thick liquid. A sensation of birdtallow and crumbling toothpicks invaded my mind as I reached out to touch one of the large crystals at the base of the largest of these trees, and nearly instantly time began to rewind! I saw myself and the man fall, I saw the giant loosing arrows upon me, and I watched as I was hurled back to before the man and I had begun our fight at all! Yet... something was different. I could feel, deep in my heart, something was very very different. What yet, I had no clue.
I continued through the village, underneath the tower of the giant, and traveled towards a place even more haunted than the village itself. Corpses strung up on pikes and horrific bird creatures awaited me on what was once likely a well traveled road. I continued carefully, not allowing any of these horrors to get the drop on me. It was here that I began to feel it-- a gnawing sensation at the back of my heart. I recognized this road, somehow. The how and the why eluded me yet, but I knew in my heart that I was following the "right" path. I was supposed to be here, either as a form of penance, or to bring judgement to these damnable beasts that have taken this land.
The road made way to a so-called "Halfway Fortress", that had long since been rendered more of a pit than a fortress. Shadows seemed to twist and mock me as I traversed through these dark, misty woods. Woods and roads made way to swamps and smells of death and excrement. Soon almost all sign of civilization had disappeared, replaced instead with miles upon miles of towering trees and thick blackness. The shadows laughed louder, and I once again recognized my foolishness. Lost in a swamp that's filled with creatures of the night, I only had two things to turn to-- my sword, and my loyalty to The Lords. I trekked further onwards into the darkness, shivering and swearing the whole way.
The swamp once again gave way to signs of some form of civilization, but this came in the way of a small fortress, ruined and filled with the undead. Slaying through them leads me on a path towards the supposed "Cathedral of the Deep". A place I have only heard rumors of-- at least, I remember hearing them. Though of what kind I could not tell. I continued through dark canopies, defeating all who stood before me, and soon the forest transformed into a horrid graveyard. A place of disrespect and misery, to which no dead could rest easy. Graves, stuffed side by side, defiled and destroyed. It was no wonder then, that as soon as I stepped foot into this place, it awoke into a rage. Pale white corpses, animated by hatred and maggots rose out of the ground to pull me under. I barely escaped their grasp, and fled further into this abyss. Soon I found myself on the steps to the blasphemous cathedral itself, yet the magnificent doors of old copper were closed tight. I had to find a different way inside...
To escape the torrent of sickness and writing anguish, I steeled myself and climbed upon the buttresses of the cathedral, hoping to find an open window or some other way to sneak inside. However, to my delight I found an entire half of the cathedral was built with balconies and connecting passageways, which made my traversal much easier than anticipated. It took time, and by the end I was highly exhausted, but eventually I managed to find my way into the cathedral's dark halls...
Inside the cathedral, I found marvellous architecture, wonders of engineering, and masterly crafted structures, mired in rot and destruction. I wandered through dark labrynthine halls, only my torchlight to guide me, travelling downwards and downwards for what felt like an eternity. In time however, I did reach the "base" of the cathedral. I wash in shock to find that it had flooded! Not with water, but with a strange, sludge-like substance. It smelled of black tar and blood. Walking amongst soaked pews were corrupted priests, and disgusting slugs with human arms and faces. All hostile, I defended myself against these creatures. I apologize to the craftsmen of these lands, because much of their beautiful work has since been defiled and destroyed in this dark place. Travelling ever deeper, slaying beasts and horrors alike, I find myself within the presence of a statue of Caitha. Caitha-- a devout and holy saint in my eyes. Though I do not follow her denomination, I paid my respects, and prayed for her spirit that her might may bring even a small sliver of light to this place.
Even deeper I travel, up and down and through halls and over bridges. As I travel, the density of the slug creatures grows higher and higher, as it seems they're defending something. A large set of ornate doors, with black iron bars that once blocked all entry, now torn open. Through the door and down a hall I enter a gigantic bedchamber, bathed in moonlight and ghostly aparitions that flow in still air. Chains lift furniture high into the sky and a woman lies on a mattress at the end of the hall, filled with pews and blocked by even more bars. I attempt to speak with this woman, yet find myself unsuccessful. Instead, she reaches her hand out to me. Gently, I take it, and I feel a strange energy course through her into me. It is... warm, enticing. Tempting, and entertaining. Holding her hand, I instantly feel better, but something is off. My mind begins to dull, and warp. In a rush, I tear my hand from her and stumble back, staring in disbelief. Was this some sort of wraith? Had I nearly become her next victim? Is she responsible for the slugmen I found outside of this unholy place? All questions that would go unanswered, as I swiftly made my leave.
Within time I found myself within a large, circular chamber, with a building sized cube in the center. Here, I discovered where the majority of unholy preachers and priests of this cathedral had congregated. Here, they chanted some form of terrible prayer, for a creature named "Aldrich". A name I knew to be one of the "great lords" I was tasked with slaying. In a moment of religious passion and judgement, I slew them all-- one by one. I knew this world was better without these men, and without this cathedral. I was merciless and swift in my punishment, putting them down in droves. I feel no regret for this. The "Cathedral of the Deep" was surely mired in the abyssal powers of evil. And now I was too.
I left the cathedral, somewhat vindicated in my original judgement of the place. A part of its evil attached itself to me as I left, leaving a permanent mark on my soul. A black shade began to follow me, rimmed in white and with large warbling eyes. I could not understand it or its vaguely human shape yet, and with its eyes piercing my back at every moment I felt as though the world began to twist around me. The swamp outside of the cathedral was... different from how I remember it. Deeper, darker, larger. Here, there lie only the poison of evil and darkness of my mind. I could hardly stand to bear it, yet with no choice but to move further forward, I walked aimlessly through the sylvan recesses of the Farron Keep.
I kept finding human structures, but they were all sunken, or served no purpose. Bridges with no end, towers with no top, remnants of what I remember humans to create, right? I could no longer understand. I wished for nothing but either death or an escape from this Hell. Creatures of the night lurked every corner, shadows would leap out and laugh in my face, the very trees would turn to look my way in judgement for my sins. My failures.
I found a piece of solid land once, only to find that it was just as infested with the mocking undead as the rest of this land. Upon it was a fire, which spoke to me. It said directly, into my mind, to find the other two and put them out as well. Find? I could find nothing in this place. Nothing but acid water and poison air. However, in time I did indeed find the second fire. This one spoke to me differently-- it told me to seek out the King of the Darkwraiths, but this I did not understand either. I did not know what a Darkwraith was, nor' why I must slay their king, but I had no choice but to continue forward.
Wait-- HALLELUJAH!! SUNLIGHT! I had discovered something-- ruins of a tower that I was able to find a foothold within and climb. I climbed and climbed this tower only to find that it was no tower at all, but instead the base of a bridge. In fact, it was a part of the same highway I traveled to reach the undead village, which felt like years ago at this point. Atop this highway I found two things-- the corpse of a great dragon, and the remains of a statue dedicated to the God of Sunlight. I rejoiced for a whole afternoon at this discovery, and I prayed at the broken statue for a whole night. This statue... it was a source of strength, and power. A guiding light, very necessary in this bleakness. The shade had fallen away, hiding its face in shame. The shadows were not gargoyles or demons, but instead simply blackness, soon to be witness to the light I carried in my heart, given to me by the Sun.
Sunlight! Praise the Sun!
With my heart filled with power and my bones rested, I struck out once again into the black swamp beneath me. Now, with my mind and spirit focused, I found the domain of the Darkwraith King nigh instantly. Drenched in feet of poison and muck, I was not phased, and after a long and difficult battle I slew the Darkwraith King, and as he bled out the smoke of the abyss I could swear I heard the languishing screams of the darkness he brought to this world. I put out the third fire, and found myself at the foot of the true Farron Keep. Forwards, through the wood of blades and blood, inside of a large chapel, I found bloodshed that which I have not yet seen before or since.
Corpses, mangled and torn to shreds, piled feet into the air. Countrymen and fellow soldiers, overtaken by some horrific force, tore at each other like assassins sent mad. Gristle and gore filled the air, filled the water, and the Earth, the very essence of life and all existence had been torn to shreds here. One man rose, and I knew in this land, I was not predator.
I was prey.
It leapt upon me before I could react, and nearly skewered me had I not thrown myself onto the floor. We battled, however I was making very little headway. Others rose from their rest as well, and battled each other, battled me, battled the world. As though these men had a quarrel with God himself, their seething rage could only be expressed in snarls and yowls. They tore at me, shredded away my light, pulled off my armor and discarded my weapons, laid me bare in this black abyss, for a judgement of their own. They were not merciful, and when the nightmare was over, I had no strength left in my body. Nary' enough of a mind to move a muscle. I simply crawled into the shredded remains of my robes, and wept softly, while the shade of blackness watched over me, still. Silent.
When I came to, a deathly fog had fallen upon the chamber, now flooded with at least a few inches of blood. The shade stood in its black cloak, rimmed in silver lining and with empty eyes. It simply stared while I gathered my things. I collected what remained of my blade, armor and cloak. I wrapped myself in the shreds of holiness to protect against the weather, the chainmail and plate torn and broken. My heart ached, for myself, for my failure, for... something I missed. Something I was seeking? I could not remember. It was warm, comfortable. I was homesick for a place I wasn't even sure existed.
As I picked myself up and began my travels, the shade followed. However, this time it took action. I remember my shock and awe the first time I saw it in battle-- it bludgeoned and crushed my enemies with silent efficiency, as though that was its only purpose in life. As we traveled, I came to call it The Hero from Hell.
Our meandering footfalls took us to a place dubbed the "Catacombs of Carthus", though this land is still Lothric. Within lied mostly dust, cobwebs, and more unholy creatures to dispatch. This time, skeletons possessed by some outside force were defending the place, which my companion and I had dispatched with extreme prejudice. However, more horrifying than these constructs were the sheer number of bones within these catacombs. Skulls lined the walls, hundreds of bones filled countless pots and boxes, filling nearly every room. The same evil power that soaked and pooled in the bottom of the Cathedral of Deep, and in Farron Keep, afflicted this place as well.
As we entered what appeared to be a naturally formed cave, its primary decoration being a thin, weak looking wooden bridge, we noticed something strange. The ground was moving, and rumbling almost. Within nary' a second we were swarmed with what seemed to be hundreds of skeletons. The Catacombs of Carthus had awoken, and it was not very happy with us. It drove us through this cave formation, and across the weak bridge. As we crossed it, arrows and blades cut the already worn ropes keeping it together, and it fell! Chasm beneath swallowed about twenty skeletons, and nearly took my companion and I if we hadn't landed "safely" on a small ledge near the end of the bridge.
With no other place to turn, my companion and I carefully trekked across the cliff face, eventually stumbling upon a small cavern. At first we believed it to be a natural formation, but upon the discovery of candles lining the walls, we came to the realization we must be travelling SOMEWHERE at least. The air began to heat up and sear our faces when we exited the cave, discovering that our already rotten luck had turned into a horrific misfortune.
We saw what could only be described as a lake of misty water in a cave half the size of the continent. Shrouded in almost supernatural blackness, only the smoulders in ancient archtrees and burning piles of corpses lit the location. Shouldered between these pyres of burning history were knights of impressive stature and skill, waging war with demons of all types. Wary, my companion and I hugged one of the side walls, hoping to find some form of savior in an escape tunnel, yet none came. In time, the ground began to crumble beneath us, before giving way entirely and dropping us into what appeared to be a hallway, blanketed in roots, smouldering with dying flame. The heat by now was utterly unbearable, and nearly lethal.
Unable to climb out of the hole that Fate had dug for us, we resigned our fate to this labrynth beneath the lake-- and a labrynth it was. Twisting halls of black shadows rimmed by fire, occupied by demons and the living dead alike. Back and forth, up and down and through and around, all places were found and all things were lost in this abyssal maze of terror. I began to feel my mind slipping even worse than it already had-- corners and stones began to smile at me, whispering. I tried to listen but the Hero from Hell always pulled me away, as though he could hear them too... It peeled away at my mind, the horrors I had seen! Oh, the horrors! I had lost everything. My dignity, my humanity, my past, my mind-- even my faith was beginning to fade! Corpses lined the walls, shooting their judgement down at me. They knew what I had done, what I had failed to do.
In time, we did indeed find an escape from that Hell, though only thanks to my companion. He led me through that blackness and as we traveled further and further upwards we discovered a fortress that looked over the lake below. From here, a passage was revealed that led even further upwards. Up and up we traveled, heat gave way to cold, red and black gave way to white and blue, and I began to believe that perhaps I could be redeemed...
I never heard of convergence before, either way interesting read, I see a bit of lovecraftian influences here and i'm digging the story so far.
Soon enough, we found ourselves walking along a cliff face, reaching the entrance point of a city of both myth and legend... Irithyll of the Boreal Valley. A thickly dark night sky twinkled with distant dreams and forgotten memories, a sliver of the moon revealing itself to us, as though to tease our minds with the brilliance of the night if it were full.
Shivers began to run up my spine while my companion and I reached the gates of the city, and it was not just the cold. As we approached the bridge, a gigantic dragon of ice flew out of the nearby valley and landed on it? It breathed its icy frost breath across the bridge, nearly stopping us in our tracks. If memory serves, we only survived BECAUSE we didn't stop moving. Instead, we sprinted across the bridge, hiding behind cover if the opportunity presented itself. Doing so, we reached the foot of the dragon mere moments before it flew away again, to terrorize the city in a different manner. Was this dragon why the city was like this?
My nose and mouth began to freeze shut as we walked the silent streets of the city, ghosts of Outrider Knights walking in our opposite direction. However, our path was eventually stopped by a large gate right outside of the main cathedral of the city, guarded by tall, silvery warriors of the night. They glowed almost as bright as the moon, their white armor barely hiding their disgusting, rotted faces.
We had to take a detour through the undersewers of the city, putting us through the valley just below some of the city streets. However, by climbing over some walls and escaping the grips of the dragon a few more times, we were able to find our way at the front of the cathedral. Mere moments before we entered, something caught my eye-- another white-pink glow around the corner. Behind the wall was hidden another small tree, with yet another poem written on its base. This one read "From Iced Heresy, Your Devotion Leads You On, to Conquered Stormfronts".
Through the cathedral we went, and here we found a field of giants, dead, surrounded by trees of woe. These trees moaned and screamed as we passed, blowing fire our way. My companion and I had to sprint for a nearby tower, which we swiftly discovered was connected to another nearby building. I did not recognize it at first, but the ramparts of this building were defended by the legendary Silver Knights of Gwyn! They fired great arrows at us from their large bows, which we dodged and sprinted past to reach some semblance of safety. Our desperate sprint for safety ended when we happened upon a large round chamber, that seemed to house the resting place of knights. Here, there was a statue of Gwyn, and that was when I realized.
This was no longer Irithyll. These were the ruins of Anor Londo.
34.jpg
(334.72 KB
1600x900
)
Upon pulling a nearby lever, something miraculous happened! A gigantic elevator curved and twisted down to us. The air began to bite at our noses and by now my mouth was frozen completely shut, however my companion and I were able to push aside the large switch in the middle of this elevator to travel even further upwards, and find the entrance to this cathedral.
It towered over us, as though expecting us to shrink at its presence. Starlight flickered through its long since dulled windows. The once golden city of gods, now rendered frozen in time. The elevator must have caught the attention of the dragon, because as soon as we began to climb the steps upwards, it flew down atop the building and roared a great and mighty roar. It shook my very bones, nearly out of my body, and knocked my companion down. The dragon glared down at us, before attempting once again to douse us in its frosted death smoke. However, this time I was prepared-- and as the dragon opened its mouth I launched a Lightning Spear at it, stricking it directly in the throat! It stumbled backwards almost, and leapt down to face us. My companion bravely stepped forward, greataxe in hand, and stood against the beast nearly alone. I stayed behind, healing him when necessary, and striking the dragon from above with the golden lightning it had long since forgotten about.
The dragon took swipes and bites and froze the stairwell of Anor Londo into a slide of permafrost, but we held steadfast and battled until the very end. My companion was struck several times, but never lost more than 10 feet of ground, and the dragon was unable to fight back against my lightning. Within time, the final strike was blown, and my companion tore through the dragon's eyes with his bare hands. Its corpse laid nearly frozen, before the wind blew it and its memory dust away, into the moonlight.
Inside of the cathedral was corruption that which I never imagined Anor Londo would fall to. Sludge of blackness and terror coagulated in the ground, forming into creatures of corpse and misery that ate all living things. Silver Knights, now turned black, not by fire or ash, but by sludge and an utter depression that choked the life out of the space. A space so dark, so black that torchlight barely cut through it. At the end of the hall, a demon awaited, taking the false form of a demigod from ages long since past. Aldrich awaited, guarded by his most faithful of demented preachers.
My companion and I fought viciously, without mercy. Such evil has no right to exist in this world. Unrepentant gluttony and greed fought back with shrieks of terror and black magic. Holy lightning tore away at this facade, and the sharp blade of an axe forged by the black recesses of a mind swiftly put an end to the screeching of evil.
Suddenly, the beast of horror strikes my heart once again. It strikes so strong, it's as if I'm physically beaten to the ground, my heart shattering my ribs with its rhythm. Fear, terror, horror. All wonderful things, aren't they? Many believe they've found a solution to these problems, through endurance, and "strength". Through silence and defense. The tapestries dance playfully, with knowledge I do not have yet. Taunting. What has driven me here? To the home of this great beast?
Swiftly, the hall was left silent. Silent white tapestries peacefully swaying in the wind, mist forming at the base of the sludge that formed the floor. Just as quickly as our war had started, it ended, and Aldrich was no more.
But our work was not done.
https://youtu.be/fjgYIdusF6U [Play]
Underneath Irithyll was a dungeon, a nest of evil. Right? Guided by torchlight and a brave foot we delve deep into the earth. The heavy, clopping footsteps of the jailers echo through my mind. Prison. Prison is a place where suffering is meant to teach one how to behave. I have always been of the opinion that rehabilitation is more efficient for creating good members of society. Prison is a punishment. One that we are all subject to. I am still in prison. I never left. The candles glow an alien green as my companion and I shuffle past the shambling dead and descend deeper through blood soaked halls. The memories of those damned to this place course through my mind, screams and shouts for loved ones, for any one, for Gwyn himself to come save them. I remember shouting for the same thing, once. I'm shouting for it right now, though no man can hear. As we descend, the stable structures of the dungeon give way to a cliff face leading into a large hollowed-out mountain, decorated with a central tower, now in ruins. Ruins. My memory is in ruins, trapped in a labrynth of stone carvings and blood. Where are they!? Where ARE THEY!? What did I do WRONG!? Golems and gargoyles haunt this cavern, almost as though they're attracted to the scent of our journey. They will appear almost out of thin air, already upon us. To escape their pursecution we flee into the tight corridors of a nearby building buried in rubble. Halls, filled with holes and lost hearts, broken minds. We fall, and demons are upon us. Demons of the mind, and the heart. We climb. Where? Alchemy, compression. Problems. Solutions. "From King's Shattered Bridge, Your Devotion Leads You On, to Fighter's Cave Rest."
Yhorm. The giant, slain by the Storm Ruler. A weapon he left by his own side so that he may be killed if he were to lose his mind. My companion refuses to wield it, and so the bloodshed is left to me. Once again.
Silence. Fire, pain, anguish, and then silence. Yhorm is no more.
Wind and rain. I cannot feel it. I am not present. Where am I? My companion pulls me forward, upwards towards a large fortress in the distance. Clouds and wind, vicious wind. We travel upwards and discover an ancient Aeromancer, his corpse being puppeted by the evil forces controlling these lands. We make swift work of him, and move forward. Through a gate, animated armor awaits us. It's not alive, yet it roars and shrieks as though filled with rage. It fights viciously, calling upon the powers of wind, rain, and lightning to attempt to slay us. It fails, and my companion crushes it beneath his axe. We stare at each other, expressionless. Upwards further, we move, through scaffolding and destroyed ramparts. What war must this fortress have faced to be torn apart like this? The wind blows against my cloak. I cannot feel it.
Inside the fortress is nearly pitch black, yet filled with strange corpses. Corpses? No, they must be meditating. Dragons in human form, laying in a peaceful silence only broken by our footsteps. Drakeblood Knights, left behind to defend this place from invaders such as myself. Failed transformations, taking snakelike forms, hiding their hideous visages behind cloaks and shields. My companion and I travel through the halls and cliff faces of this cold, wet place. At its peak, guarded by a militia of snake men, is a shrine. A small shrine, perhaps where sacrifices were made? In the distance lies a dragon, nearly larger than the mountain it lies upon. An object of worship, if I've ever seen one. It rests, asleep, much like its followers. True death is merely an advanced form of sleep, returning to the dream above this one. The dream that dreams our world, the one force.
That feeling again reaches my bones-- the vibrations, the calling. The tugging, towards war. My companion and I find the bell, and walk upon the clouds beneath it. Above us, a shriek, and a war cry. Faraam has come. Upon a dragon he rides, as majestic as it is powerful. He and his dragon fight us tooth and nail, viciously. My lightning tears apart the dragon, a feat to which I feel nearly nothing. On ground of cloud and water, the once Nameless King stands, absorbing the power of his dragon. My companion and I do not hesitate, and neither does our opponent. He and my companion stay locked in combat for much time. Raw strength cannot beat skill and dexterity, but skill and dexterity mean little when you lack the strength of unfiltered horror. Ultimately, my companion and I win, and much like Faraam took his power from the dragon, I take Faraam's power into myself.
The storm clears, the dream dissipates, clarity reaches my mind. I'm standing-- where? On top of the fortress. The sun beams down, smiling at me. What did I do? What did I do to deserve this? The storm is cleared, the sun shines. The God of the Lion Knights has been slain-- put out of the misery of his undeath. Such is my duty. Here, another tree awaits.
"From Castle Eclipsed, Your Devotion Leads You On, to King's Shattered Bridge".
Somewhere in the Cathedral, I lie. Clutching a shred of a painting, ancient and unkowable. A man comes up to me, wearing dirtied brown priest robes, clearly hiding armor, and a greathelm. He's armed, and I convince him to touch the painting. Tricked him?
I'm lost, and it's cold. Cold. When people say they like the cold, they mean they enjoy being wrapped warm and distant from its bite. No being enjoys cold. My companion rousts me from my distraction once again-- Ariandel, right. Through a thick storm we push through, shivering down to the bone. My thin robes barely keep me alive. As we travel, we're shocked to find the snow beneath our feet crumble and fall-- we've tripped into a cliff face, and the howling in the distance implies soon-to-be bloodshed. Wolves leap upon us, guided by a giant wolf half the size of a dragon! My companion and I leap into action, defending each other on all sides. One, two, four, eight wolves go down before they decide to flee. We continue to travel, tending to our wounds, as we stumble upon a large cathedral in the distance. A beautiful cathedral, tall and majestic upon its mountaintop, completely inaccessible. The rope bridge that would connect it to the cliff face we travel upon is broken. Instead, we seek a different path, across the cliff towards a nearby town.
We discover that instead of people, the town is populated almost exclusively by mutant birds, crawling across the ground, making horrific noises. They squeak and squawk as we pass through, subsisting themselves on the blood red rot that infests the land. Through the town, up past their library, and into the mountains once again. It all passes as a blur. Large men dressed in horns and wolf fur, archers and giants making war. Slain. A lone man rests his eyes for the last time inside of a cave, next to a tree.
"From Conquered Stormfronts, Your Devotion Leads You On, to Ash and Abyss".
We travel upwards through the mountain and discover an entrance to the lower levels of the church! The scent of blood and excrement once again tips me off that something isn't right. The basement! It's been filled head to toe with rot! Manbugs of horrific sizes, eggs and flesh coat the walls. It's one of the single most disgusting sights I've ever been victim to. My companion and I lightly step through the hordes of bugs, careful not to disturb the ones eating. When one of us finds a lever and pulls it, we hear moving stone and machinery on the floors above. Unfortunately, this activity also awakes the thirst within the manbugs surrounding us, and we barely survive an escape towards the upper floors. There were simply too many for us to kill at once. Upstairs, there is a little painter girl, who speaks of an "Uncle Gael", collecting things for her painting. On the floor below, a secret passage underneath a statue opens up to reveal a large chamber underneath the chapel. Inside of this chamber is a large creature that vaguely resembles a man, flagellating himself to produce blood. He is tied to a chair and a large bowl, which has an eternal fire lying within it. Besides him, Sister Friede, his companion. For reasons I cannot recall, we are attacked, and my companion is instantly thrown into combat with Friede. Swiftly, the large flagellating man rises from his stupor and attacks me, whipping me thoroughly in the back, and scarring me permanently. I retaliate with lightning and blade, and soon enough both victims are slain. For what purpose?
Friede begins to stand. Though she had been ripped to shreds by my companion, she stood powerful yet still. And once again war was waged. The man's bowl of fire had spilled onto the wooden furniture of the chamber, candlesticks had been knocked down, and fire was spreading. Fast. With many blows traded and intense wounds taken on our side, Friede is finally slain by me when I stabbed her through the back while her attention was split. Without any time to celebrate, my companion and I escape from the church, and sprint away towards nowhere in particular.
52.jpg
(422.42 KB
1600x900
)
With few options, my companion and I climb down the broken bridge at the cliff face of the church, past the gate. When that runs out, we tactfully fall down the human sized roots that lay at the bottom of the church, and when that runs out, we simply fell to the bottom of the painting. Here, where the ice is thick and the light of the sky burns bright through the frost. Here, we rest, taking more than just a few moments to comprehend what's been happening. I can recall little, and I can feel the adrenaline of battles long since over coursing through my veins. As we catch our breath, we exchange glances. My silent companion, unknowable. The Hero from Hell. In this moment I realize how little I understand this creature. Only that it is here, and it assists me in ways that prove it's not simply a figment of my imagination. Does it understand what's happening? Is it guiding me in the right direction? As I brainstorm, I cannot think of an answer to these questions. The only way to learn the truth is to continue forwards. Soon, we're on our feet again, and in the distance, we spot a strange circular structure, which we seek out immediately. It sits in a grove of white flowers, beautiful and yet cold at the same time. Distant, as though a lover that loves you too much to stay. Underneath the structure, only a silent grave remains. I sit, and I pray.
Somewhere we are transported, escaping the cold and replacing it with shadows. Something happened to the painting, perhaps? The High Wall of Lothric. Somehow, we're here.
We awake from our stupor, lost, dazed and confused. Even I cannot recall precisely what happened. Shadows loomed in every corner and demons leapt out at us at every moment. An old woman, Emma, is the one responsible for this. Right? I can no longer tell. One moment we're speaking, and the next she is dead. A mistake, I'm aware. One made of madness, and confusion. I think. From behind us, another horrible creature pulls itself from the abyss. This was a punishment for my horrible misdeed. A priest, a preacher, killing an innocent woman? A PALADIN killing an innocent woman? No, I was not and am not any of those things. I am nothing. Its horrific visage was covered by decorative bars and viels, as though we were to be married. It would be fitting, being the consort for a demon. Why do I fight? Why do you fight? For others, or for yourself? The beast strikes fiercely, and speedily. It is not to be toyed with, but I cannot focus. I lose my balance, reality tips over, and I'm gone. But I'm not. My companion makes war with this creature, but she strikes him down almost instantly. He is too slow. It is now my turn to make this dance with Death once more.
And so we dance.
Up and down, side to side. There is no space for demons here, and as soon as you make your exodus I will make mine. We make strikes as gracefully as two lovers in a pas de deux, yet her blades are as long as I am tall. Lovers in war... a memory returns to me. One I was glad to have lost. She shreds me apart with each strike, yet each time she doesn't. I am struck, and again. And again. And again, until I am not. The fight is won with a decisive blow-- a blade directly through her throat-- and my own.
I stumble, shocked, confused. Terrified. My head falls aside, helmet and all, yet I live on. My senses are warped, reality a colorful rainbow of everything in my world I've lost. Yet, my head I keep. My mind remains intact. My helmet... different. No, it has always been this shape. I simply never saw it. I pick up my head and return it to its rightful place, transformed. Who am I? Kristos, yes, but this dancer killed him. This time, things are different. The first pieces of the puzzle fall into place. I help my companion rise, and he stares at me. This time, not as expressionless as before... This time, with thanks in his heart.
The Castle awaits...
As it turns out, the king has a garden. Lovely! From our entrance we cross a bridge and follow a path downwards, only to find this garden to be subpar at best. Gigantic creatures of black pus roam and slude of toxic evil soaks the ground, poisoning the plants and trees. Here, only death is found, once again. Is there no place in this land that can harbor life!? Perhaps the Conjurors were right, perhaps the Life Tree is the only saving grace of this place... On a large stone podium in the center of the garden, we find a collection of vibrant green crystals, much like those I saw at the Life Tree... how long ago was that? Perhaps the king was a Conjuror? If that were the case, then perhaps his garden wouldn't be like this. Further ahead, across more ruins, we find ourselves face-to-face with the ruler himself. He stands, motionless, like a statue, trapped within his elaborate armor. However, the closer we get, the more he moves. As we walk forwards, he begins to twitch, then shiver, and swiftly enough he begins to approach us! My companion and I knew very well that he had no positive intentions for us, and attacked him before he had the opportunity. But he was fast, very fast. He swung his halberd like it had no weight, and moved as though his body were the armor itself, yet with two of us he was bound to succumb eventually. Lightning and my companion's trusty axe cut through him just the same, king or not.
As we stood over his body, a strange feeling came over me. Not clarity, not redemption-- apathy. We had just slain the ruler of this land, Lothric, and yet I felt nothing. WE felt nothing. This meant nothing. Did the king mean anything? I remember someone who meant something to me.
Past the garden, entering the Castle, we find yet another resting place for those who lost their life in battle, being tended to by fellow holy men. I was almost disappointed however, when they tried to kill us on sight yet again. Holy priests! To think that I would be attacked by my own kind like this! Except we aren't the same. We aren't the same at all. My companion and I fought with extreme prejudice, and had no tolerance for those wearing robes, whether they seemed peaceful or not. None of them were. From hall to hall, we climbed across battlements, piercing through soldiers and knights alike, seeking the top of this castle. For redemption, for peace, to find a home. For warmth. It's so cold. So very cold. Through the ramparts and past the gate, all are subject to our blades, for none have the mind nor' heart to remain in this world any longer. It is a service to these poor men. Atop this fortress, on the bridge leading across the way to the Archives, lies a knight. Tall and stalwart, a Dulahan stands between us and the Archives.
He attacks my companion first, and my lightning hits him, yet he takes it and reflects it back towards me, nearly throwing me off the bridge! I recognize now that I must fight him traditionally, and thusly I approach alongside my companion, and we attack at once! As one, we strike the knight, and as one, he attempts to strike us, yet our learned tactics prove useful. We make efficient work of the poor knight, putting him down much the same we have so many others. There is honor when one dies in battle, even if simply because they faced down the reality of war and accepted the consequences.
And onwards, we travel. Upwards, we go.
My heart and soul yearn to grab every book off of the dense shelves of the archives, yet wisdom dictates I don't. Through the main hall we found ourselves in front of a rather large fountain of wax, nearly all dried. It's surrounded by ancient scholars, all of whom have dipped their heads within the wax, likely out of some form of religious compulsion. We will not make that same mistake, and so by slaying the scholars and their dastardly thralls, we creep through the dark halls of this library. Once a place worthy of reverence and respect, now simply a dumping ground for weak souls who failed to reach the top of this world. A place so dense with evil that even the books reach out and try to take your soul! Ghastly arms reach from the pages and tug at your body ripping at skin and cloth. Only through deft movement are my companion and I able to escape their grasp and reach the rooftops of the archives. Here, we climb across buttresses and balconies to reach the highest floor possible. We take no rests at the top, some form of compulsion drives us further past even exhaustion and hunger. And so climb we do, eventually reaching the final floor of the archives, wherein holy Lion Knights await us.
They fall. Just as all the others have. Their bravery shall be rewarded by peace in heaven for falling to our holy blades. A statue, caked in wax and wounded from time catches my eye. It is praying-- for absolution, perhaps? For freedom from this Hell? An understanding begins to awaken within me. I am wounded. I am hurt. I am exhausted. I am very little more than human. Yet still, I am here. Where is here? My mind?
Yes, my mind. I am here, in my mind. The world is my mind. I am my mind. What is the mind? It is the connection between your physical self and your spiritual self. The bridge point between different realms. You are three people. Your body, your mind, and your spirit. Each of those has layers. Layers between them. Who am I? Who are you? Are you sad?
Are you happy being alive?
https://youtu.be/qmgi2oXrXLY [Play]
Are you happy being alive?
Only through suffering can one build great strength, and only through strength can one bring happiness to the lives of others. Have you made others happy? I am Kristos. I am not happy, because I suffer. I suffer at the hands of this reality, at the hands of others.
Have you done the right thing?
No.
Have you done the right thing?
I might have.
Is that a good thing?
Yes.
Does that make you happy?
No.
Does that make you happy?
No.
Are you a good man?
Maybe?
Good men can do anything. Including making themselves happy. Believe in your happiness, and you will have it. To be happy, you must believe you are. To be powerful, you must believe you are. And then, you must act on it.
Are you powerful?
Yes.
Are you happy?
No.
Who are you?
I am Kristos, Paladin of the Grim March.
And the Twin Princes Lothric and Lorian are dead. Through knights and warriors, dark and night, blood and blight, I am alive. Because I believe I am. The Land of Moonlight is where Pontiff lies. Pontiff is next. He is already dead, I merely remember it happening. Yes, this is done. The world is complete. My suffering has not been for naught. All that is left is to watch it happen. The tears and wounds fall from my body, the robes that obscured my sight burned away. I can see now, somewhat. My mind, my body, my spirit. One being, in absolution. I shine, the light from the stained windows glistening off of my metal scales.
You cannot undo what has been done?
No. But I can prevent those things from happening in the future.
And where is the future?
Now.
Are you happy being alive?
Pontiff Sulyvahn is dead. The prayer is complete. The future is here, colliding with us now. I find myself in the shrine... Firelink Shrine, in ruins. I am now in the present, which was once the past. My understanding is complete now, and the final leg of my journey begins. I go outside and find that the world has ended, swallowed into a sea of ash and dust, forgotten. The Sun has been consumed by blackness. The final pillar of light, taken by this bleakness and sorrow. I stared upwards, and could swear that I saw the stars shedding tears at this fate.
All that my journey has entailed has already happened, and will happen, yet has not happened. A great sorrow fills my heart, although joy should be replacing it. Why is that? My companion is gone, his quest complete. The Hero from Hell has returned from whence he came, with no more duties left on this planet. He is still with me, but his form is basic, and ghostly. Hiding behind shadows and within walls. Clarity takes hold. My heart burns for the one I lost so long ago. I ache, but still, I walk forward, through the ash and burned memories. Over toppled buildings and through swamps; nothing stands in my way now. Deep within the recesses of a mountain I discover two Demon Princes, whom I promptly slay without trial. They stood no chance. Beyond the mountain, across a cliff face, I hold up a banner. I'm not sure where I got it, only that it was in the future. I raise it up, and white creatures of wings and fang crawl from below and grab me. I fight at first, but soon they have me off of the ground and I accept wherever it is that they carry me.
The golden winds of this place nearly blind my eyes with their brilliance as they drop me on a mountain uncountable miles away from where we were. Beyond the mountainside, a great spectacle reveals itself to me-- a multicolored city of unseen proportions, towering into the sky. Blanketed with moss and ancient dust, glowing with power and energy. This-- this is the Ringed City, the last bastion of reality at the end of the world. Yet this land is strange still; giants summon ghostly apparitions to attack you, and even larger bugmen infest the walls. Once holy priests now turned into monsters wrapped in cloth hide behind every corner. Stalwart and tall, I seek through the streets for answers and blood, erasing all life from those undeserving and unwanting of its grace. Knights, cursed by the Dark Sign swarm the city streets, their power nearly unmatched across the lands. Yet still, I persevere, through wound and weariness. As I pass through a large stairwell down an avenue, I come into a massive swamp. Part of the city has been swallowed by the same evil that has swallowed so many other worlds and places. This place is no different, and is already succumbing to the end of time. I wade through the disgusting waters, their smell no longer toxic to my nose, and watch as in the distance, a dragon lands and watches me on a mountainside. Yet another beast to topple, perhaps? It's better to stay humble. I prioritize hiding from it for the time being.
As I trawl through the city, I come across a rather large cliff face, and find that the dragon itself is waiting for me to cross it. I trick it instead, sprinting across only part of the cliff face and leaping into an alcove at the last minute, as its black unholy flames blast across the rocks, scorching them. It waits patiently for me to move again, to which I do, however leaping onto a lower cliff face rather than dashing forward. Here, the flames miss me again, and I move past the dragon, entering a spiral stairwell hidden within a cave. I travel up the stairs but across a thin passage, they crumble and break underneath me, once again stranding me on a path I would rather have not traveled. Pulling myself out of the rubble, I push forward, crawling through halls and chambers, a labrynthine nightmare of stone and perversion. Soon, stone bricks turn to natural stone, turns to rubble, turns to... a pit. As I fall down, deep into whatever abyss awaits me, my heart begins to run and palpatate once again. Questions enter my mind; "What if I've failed again?", "What if I've deluded myself into this?". Questions that do not deserve answers. My legs find solid ground surprisingly painlessly, and I'm astounded to find myself within the gigantic lair of the dragon that haunted my traversals earlier. It slumbers, almost silently, still. If one could carve out the dragon, they could use its skin to house three families and a nobleman. Nervously, I take a single step forward, which awakes the great beast nigh instantly. I take action instantly while it's still dazed, and hurl lightning spears and arrows at it with all of my might. It roars as its scales are peeled off, shaking the Earth with its power, and nearly crumbling my bones into dust with the vibrations alone. It counterattacks much more swiftly than I would have expected-- blowing black fire across the cavern field. I nearly kill myself of exhaustion sprinting from the flames, only to force myself to hurl more lightning at it. This pattern repeats, with my death at a hairs breadth away every single moment. It takes all of my might, every single fiber of my physical strength to keep that fire from scorching me in an instant. But the mind of a human is too strong for a beast, and my tactics worked better than I expected. Within time, the beast fell, ticking another to my list. The greatest and largest dragon I'd ever seen; slain, by my hand, with the help of my holy Sun.
I take what feels like days to catch my breath and collect my thoughts. I could no longer tell how much time had passed, where the past begins and where the present ends. There was only one thing I could say with confidence: the future was certain, because it was in my hands. I raised myself from my back and began the long and arduous climb out of the lair of the beast, following twisting and winding paths of dark stone and pitch darkness. Just as it had before, slowly the stone turned into stone bricks, turned into ornate halls and chambers once again. This time, my path was clear-- up. I continued travelling upwards, taking stairwell after stairwell, ladder after ladder, climbing up and up and past the streets, past the floors and towers, all the way unto the tallest spire in the city.
I climbed the final staircase and opened the doors. What I found inside was perplexing, but made perfect sense as well. A large, young woman caressing an egg, cracked and torn open. My curiosity got the better of me and I reached forward, touching the egg slightly. To my horror, it fell apart almost instantly, crumbling into dust. The woman shone, only slightly at first, but then brighter, and brighter, until she was so bright as to be blinding. Her light was so bright that it blinded me, and is what set me on this path in the first place. This is where it all began.
As the light faded, I opened my eyes to utter shock and horror. The world around me as I knew it had been taken even further past the destruction I thought possible. The woman now resembled a raisin, and the egg was now only black ash in her arms. The tower, crooked and ruined, the flowers and greenery of the city now dust and corpses. All the matter of the world had been rendered to dust, forming a desert larger than any planet, any mind, any world. All points collided here and now, upon the discovery of that egg. Upon the discovery of her truth. My beloved... why have you done this?
Outside of the tower was desolation and pain. In the distance, another ethereal tree grew inside of a building. This one much taller than the others, and its inscription even more perplexing. "From Fighter's Cave Rest, Your Devotion Leads You On, To Castle Eclipsed" it read. A perfect cycle, as are all things. The shade from before returned, the Hero from Hell, for one last quest. Perhaps it never left? It has always been here. It follows me as I wander, stumbling into a crawling old man, wearing ragged robes and a crooked crown. He speaks of The Red Hood, to which I was confused but only for a moment. Across the way, past 7 thrones, all in ruins, a large, elderly man sat over a corpse, consuming it. He donned a cloak of red, with a hood and all. He looks up at me as I stare down, and mutters something about remembering me entering his painting, before begging me to give him my blood. I look at him with understanding, and shake my head.
This sends him into a rage, and he leaps at me as though he were a monster himself. He is a monster, transformed into one by his ignorance. In another future, that is me staring upwards to another man, whom I hate more viciously than the Devil could hate God. But I am not that man. He fights speedily, viciously, and without mercy. Filled with mirth, for God. For his pain, for his victims, for his foes. For himself. My companion and I are only barely able to survive his onslaught of attacks. He was skilled, powerful, and perhaps one day he might have been wise, but he had lost all of what remained of his humanity. My companion and I defeated The Red Hood, without prejudice. In another time, I would not understand why he lost. Just as the final blow was dealt to The Red Hood, the shade disappeared, almost as quickly as it appeared. I wonder... is it a part of me? It faded away into the wind, beckoning me to another guide.
I followed the ashes of my loved one until the ends of the Earth. I walked and followed the wind for what felt like years, perhaps centuries, or even just a few moments. But when the time came, I knew what I had to do. I looked upon the eclipsed Sun one final time, and finally understood my fate. I understood my role. My purpose. I am alone. I approached the zenith of the End of the World, and It awoke. The Soul of Cinder, my final battle. A mirror reflection into my own mind. Time is a flat circle, and I will be here again. I have been here thousands of times before, in different worlds. Different minds. Different people. The Soul of Cinder begged me for one final battle, and so I gave it one. I fought for all that I had, tooth and nail, blade and bone. Of all the beasts I've slain, monsters I've overcome, demons I've defeated, none have been as difficult as this. It wasn't until I stopped fighting did I understand.
You cannot fight fire with fire. Violence begets violence, and thusly, the most lethal blow you can deal to your opponent is one in your own heart. It is not the anguish of the outer world that is responsible for your pain, it is instead the demons of your mind and soul. If you know yourself, you can take care of yourself, and that is the first step to greatness. You're going to battle, and you're going to fight. Win or lose, you're always alright in the end.
Do it for me. Do it for one another. Do it for yourself, and do it for each other. I caused this war, but how? It was my pain. I caused it with my pain. I was preventing my own victory with my pain. Killing the Soul of Cinder was the final step, and when I finally stopped fighting, it simply kneeled down and let me slay it. That is the nature of things. I let go.
https://youtu.be/5cJ_q_8K1LA [Play]
My path was now clear. I stepped forwards, and let the flame engulf me. Slowly, painfully, it embraced my body, the pain greater than any heartache I had suffered before. I sat, and I thought. I am burning, yet I am not burning. I wanted to win, to defeat all of my enemies, to fulfill my purpose and bring happiness to all those around me. Fear is the source of all anguish, all pain. And pain perpetuates itself.
Embrace the pain, and you will win this game.
And so, I sat, burning, forever and for the rest of eternity. I burned satisfied. Because I love the world. Because I love what is good. Because I can love, even if the world itself fights me at every turn. And one day, the Sun will shine again.
I love you. I will miss you, until the end of time.
