"Welcome home, Ashen One."

The Firekeeper welcomes you with a soft smile, her head turned to you. She sits serenely at the foot of the staircase and though her eyes are covered, her gaze seems to pierce through the remnants of your soul. You nod as you walk towards her, the feeling of vertigo from traveling through the bonfires slowly fading away. She says nothing as you kneel before her, hand outstretched. Her hand extends towards you and her pale fingers emit an ethereal glow as you feel the power coursing through you. The glow fades and you arise, turning with a clank of armor and weapon back to the bonfire to continue on your journey. As the flames burst to take you to your next goal, you hear the Firekeeper's voice before you are whipped away from the Shrine in a kaleidoscope of incoherent shapes and fire.

May the flames guide thee.

The howls of the undead no longer send shivers down your spine. You hang your head low as you sneak behind the groveling shades, their hands beckoning in blind and unholy worship to lost lords and kings. The decaying brick of the High Wall of Lothric crumbles beneath your feet, the echoes of loose stones interrupting the cacophony of hoarse moaning from the dead. Most ignore you, unaware to their surroundings and fervent in their worship, but the plodding footsteps of the malevolent undead legion warn you of the dangers ahead. White letters scratched on the ground shine brilliantly against the dull stone, messages left behind by wraiths who stepped on these lands before you. You raise your sword and ready your shield as you step further into the unknown.

Andre's hammer strikes against metal, the clanging sound echoing against the walls of the stone chambers. It's loud and grates upon your ears so badly that your teeth clench, but the weathered blacksmith pays it no heed. The sound is familiar now, almost comforting, It's always the first thing you hear when you step through a bonfire, and you find yourself missing the sound when the unsettling moans of the undead replace it. The hammering ceases, and Andre lifts up the hulk of metal to examine and sniffs.

Yer weapon be done. He declares in his hoarse voice before relinquishing your blade into your hands. The old man looks you in the eye. In battle, y' weapons are yer only friends. Forge them well, and they won't let y' down.

The blacksmith turns away as he picks up his hammer again. As you turn away to leave, you hear him call out.

Prithee, be careful. I don't want to see m' work squandered!

The first time you die, the taste of ash fills your mouth as Gundyr crushes your body under his mutated weight.

The second time you die, a courtyard of bodies is the last thing you see.

The third, a giant crab crushes you under a massive claw; the fourth, a great demon of fire and breathing embers with each inhale burns what is left of your body.

The tenth, the twentieth, thirtieth, fiftieth?

You lose count of how many times you die again, and again, and again...

But you still come back, over and over again. You lose first, you fight, you lose again, you keep going, you triumph, and you wearily head towards the next bonfire. And when you reach your hand out towards the only source of warmth that you can find in this cold and desolate world and the world swirls into a whirlpool of color...

"Welcome home, Ashen One."

You find yourself back at the closest place you can call home.

credits

Bonfire pixel by zedotagger.
Official art and Dark Souls 3 by FromSoftware.
Coding, art, and overlay by me.