Enjoy! She didn't play the games but knows I love Artorias and Sif so looked up some lore and went to it.

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There are legends in the bonfires.

For those who are long of gaze, stout of heart, and fear not the cold of the world nor the heat of the blaze, the legends will be told. Worn and ancient, their voices need not be silenced in the crackling, buried beneath the crumbling, popping logs.

I am not here to tell tales. Tales may be told by any, indeed many. A legend must be lived. That is why I come to the bonfires.

I gaze into the crackling leaping light, my knees folded beneath my chin, waiting. Figures dance like moss swaying in a breeze, slowly at first, then twirling into pictures. I close my eyes, letting the warmth of the fire seep into my bones, claiming me, bringing me somehow within… I can feel the sword in my hands, the breath of cold abyssal air pressing against my eyes, the breeze of a wolf as it passes…

My vision clears and the bonfire is gone. I am a dancer. No, that is not quite right. I twirl and leap, but that is not music that moves my feet. It is fear, fear I must overcome. The only song I hear is the screams of these nightmares, the abyssal beasts I have come here to defeat.

Oolacile is overrun. My hope flags but this is the command of my lord. A snarl at my side kindles my will once more. My wolf, my great grey friend, knows no sorrow nor despair. He will follow me, and I must fight, if for no other reason than to save him from the peril he has followed me in to.

The will of my lord flows deep, but this that drives me is something other.

My companion flies through the air, all four paws tucked beneath him. His landing shakes the earth as though he were much larger than he is, like all his will has given him weight. His snapping jaws end his enemy as quick as snuffing a candle and with as little concern, and he is on to the next. He never falters. He is as immune to fear as these beasts are to compassion.

I am called a master of the sword; I am called a great hero. Yet I cannot credit myself neither grace of spirit nor skill of body in the shadow of my friend.

Yet still I must fight on. My sword twirls above my head, slashes low, thrust and parry.

I cannot save this soulless city. The abyss has claimed it and will not yield. My eyes turn to a tower and a glimmer of crystal and gold. I fear I cannot save this princess either. My arm is strong still though, and I fight on. I will not stop.

I feel a brush of something across my shoulders, and the pain that follows is like none I have ever known. My companion whimpers, and my own pain is forgotten. A shadow, barely more substantial than the mere absence of light, hovers above him for a moment then floats away. He has suffered pain, but climbs to his feet, shaking himself and growling. A glance behind me shows me the same emptiness, a humanity phantom, then it is gone. But I am weaker. I can feel it. And there will be more.

My friend fights on, but more slowly, knowing better than to snap at the phantoms. It will do no good.

Something does not feel right. I am surrounded by creatures of the abyss but it is more than that. I am surrounded... but this that I feel.... this is within. It is a creeping darkness I cannot shake away.

I turn to look at my companion, who has destroyed a half dozen foes while I am lost in horror. It cannot be. My ring... my covenant... It cannot be. But it is.

I can feel it creeping through me now. I am succumbing to darkness. But how? I shake my head. It does not matter. I have no time to question how.

"To me!" I call to my companion. His great head swivels to me, his yellow eyes bright with intelligence. Blood drips from his jaws.

In one mighty bound he is at my side once more. He does not heel; no mere dog is he.

I feel a twinge in my body and I know what it is. I am sure now. I still do not understand but I know. Another phantom hovers near my friend, my only friend. I stretch out an arm and it touches me. Pain races through me and the spread of corruption accelerates. I grit my teeth. My wolf whimpers at my pain as though it were his own.

I remove one gauntlet and with bare hand, I press my fingers through the fur at his neck, squeezing gently, feeling his warmth. I raise my Greatshield, the last protection I have to offer. I slam it down into the cobblestones at the feet of my wolf, tearing my caressing hand away at the last possible moment.

A barrier springs to life between he and I. The impact shatters my arm, pain first sharp and hot then dull and numbing rattles up to my shoulder. He backs away, hackles rising. As a humanity phantom floats closer, he slams his body against the shield that stands between us. It deflects him without harming him. He whimpers and growls menacingly as the phantom strikes me once more, bringing me closer to the end I know is coming. Not death, but something much worse. I wish his last vision of me to be one of honor.

My enemies swarm over me and the humanity phantoms hover near. With my one remaining arm, I slip the Greatsword and the Covenant across the barrier to my companion. He whines sadly.

"Guard it well, my friend." With the last of my strength, I make a final plea. "Remember me as this. Remember me not as a Knight of Gwyn. Remember me not as the Abysswalker. Remember me by my greatest title: Artorius, friend of Sif."

He stands, his great paws on the sword and lifts his mighty head to the sky.

My final memory, as myself, is the sound of his howl.

I wake groggily to the bonfire, tears streaming down my face, and reach for my quill.