(Hollow’s POV)

I’m sitting in front of a bonfire made of bones, with a sword stabbed in the center of the pile, where the fire should be. Naturally, it’s cold, without any fire. The holy flame that should be there is now resting inside my body, too weak to light the world again.

I don’t know how much time I have been sitting here, but it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing besides the place where I’m sitting on, and the ground around me, pierced by rusted swords where I faced my last foe, the collection of all the ones that lit the fire before and after me, the Incarnation of Kings, the Soul of Cinder.

The greatest foe that I ever face, even more than Father of The Abyss, greater than the Abysswalker, than the everlasting dragons, even greater then the original reclaimers of the original Great Souls from the First Flame that now rests forever inside me.

Of course, it had part even of me, one of the so called “Lords” of the flame. If it were not for the Red Hood, I would not have the power to defeat the Soul of Cinder. And here am I, on the dark, under a sun with no sky.

My memory now fails me greatly, and I do not even remember my name. not even the reason of why I fought so hard to keep the First Flame lit. I even forgot the faces and names of my family, but I never forgot my journey. I have never forgot their faces and names, neither their objectives.

Anri, Siegmeyer and his daughter, Sieglinde, Logan, Patches, Andre of Astora, and the good Greirat. Friends from past era, that either died or went hollow, losing their minds. To lose their purpose, to lose their minds and turn into hollow, walking corpses.

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My hand moves to my chest, covered in an old and tattered shirt, clutching the pendant hanging on my neck. This pendant was my anchor during my whole journey. I received from my wife, before my memory was badly damaged. “Every time you hold it, hear my voice”, she said.

This pendant kept me from forgetting, from going hollow and losing everything. I look up, o the black sky. The Age of Dark… no, Age of Man, I should say. After so long struggling against the dark, I finally decided to break the cycle, and let the human live free from the gods.

And now, the First Flame resides inside me, to never burn in this world again. It’s a new age for those who were born in the dark, a prosper and lasting age. An age… that I cannot be part of. After all, I’m part of the Age of Fire, and now, I can be called a god, as the First Flame and its powers are mine to command.

I’m a relic that lasted for too long, and now, I should just fade to history as my peers, such as Gwyn, whose name was forgotten by all but those who knew him personally. That means, only I remember his name and his deeds. Now, he is just a god of old, without a name and place in the history.

That is the bad point of living for too long. You do not only hear about the stories, you become part of them. The Chosen Undead who left the Asylum in pilgrimage, the second King of Drangleic who saw his kingdom grow old and fall, and the one who brought end to the Age of Fire that he fought so long to preserve.

Oh my, how long has been since I though this much. It’s a surprise that I haven’t gone hollow after so long without thinking and without moving. Well, not that will change anything, after all, I will never leave this spot. I wonder if I should challenge those who come? After all, rumors of my power would spread, and those who covet it would appear.

Suddenly, light comes out of the ground where I am seated. I look down, surprised. A circle filled with complicate patterns. A magic circle. The light gets stronger, blinding me momentarily, and I cover my eyes.

A strange sensation of movement affects my body for a second. The sensation of the ground changes, as if I was sitting on grass. I open my eyes, my blurred vision returning to normal. I then look up… to a blue sky, with a sun shining down.