Chapter Text
“…All of you…forgive me… For I have availed you nothing…”
Artorias could no longer remember how many times he had repeated this. An apology to all his comrades, whispered against the endless dark. Darkness was all around him. A bitter, cold darkness that seemed to chill his very bones.
This was not the same darkness that corrupted him in the Abyss. It wasn’t raging or hungry, not pulsating with twisted energy. It was not corrupting him, blinding him like he was trapped in some kind of feverish nightmare. For all the pain and horror it had caused him, he almost wished it was. It was better than this apparent purgatory.
He could barely recall his last moments. The dark had all but overtaken him. His voice had been reduced to screams and he felt naught but anger, even when he finally fell to the blade of the wandering warrior that came into the coliseum where he dwelled. Then he had suddenly found himself here, in utter silence and in obscurity. Wherever he was, he somehow knew he had not been condemned to the Abyss.
Instead, the darkness he found himself in was silent, cold and omnipresent. It came at him from all sides, seemingly watching him and judging him. It seemed to wordlessly taunt him with his failure, the endless blackness insinuating a never-ending loneliness. Here, there was no light or even twisted form of life. No rest for the wicked. A plane of absolutely nothing, forever cut off from everyone he ever loved or cared about.
His chest ached at the mere thought of them. Gough, Ornstein, Sif, Ciaran… He had failed them all, losing himself to the threat he was supposed to protect them from. Now, he would never see them again. His comrades, his companion and the woman he loved were forever out of his reach now and all there remained was this void that would never stop and would never be kind enough to put him out of his misery.
Perhaps, he thought, this was punishment for his failure. Punishment for being foolish enough to think he could withstand an inhuman power beyond comprehension. For lacking caution and damning everyone to be corrupted by the Abyss. For those only blackness awaited, an emptiness that could not be escaped, and once confined, one would remain forever aware that they were trapped.
The weight of this notion seemed to crush him. It cut the air from his throat and he swore his heart stilled within his ribcage. For a moment, it felt the darkness was truly closing in. He shivered madly, feeling too cold to even shed tears. His feet were like stone and every movement he tried to make exerted him. It would not have mattered either. The darkness was unchanging, whether he moved or stood still and was as unyielding as it was all-enveloping.
In spite of this, he chose to walk. No matter how futile his mind told him it was and no matter how much his body protested. What else was he supposed to do? If he walked, his body moved and his mind raced. It allowed him to think, to forget. To simply remember all the good things he had experienced in life.
He thought about his evenings drinking with Gough and how he would tease him over being such a lightweight. Ornstein mentoring and guiding him. Ciaran training him and the many nights in each other’s arms. Playing with Sif and marveling at how fast the wolf cub grew.
All of these memories, vivid and happy, temporarily made him forget. The cold and darkness would cease to be for a while and the silence of the void would be muted by the sounds from his recollection. He would simply close his eyes, putting one foot in front of the other.
Hunger never overcame him and despite physical fatigue, he was never beseeched by the need to sleep. So he kept at it, step by step, walking through the darkness. Spurred on by determination and memories of better times, he ignored the nothing that surrounded him. He could go on forever like this, he determined. Go on forever with his memories to keep him company. That suited him just fine. That seemed far better than giving into despair.
So he walked for what seemed like miles, never going anywhere. He waded through a plane without sound or smell, without beginning or end. He was so wrapped up in shutting it all out, in ignoring his own loneliness, that he paid mind to nothing. Not even to the fact that his feet suddenly moved slower and a sound other than his own breath finally reached his ears.
An odd rustling sound caused him to snap his eyes open. He looked down in its direction. The noise was heard at his feet and he could only note with surprise that there was indeed something there.
Fallen leaves.
Raising his brows, Artorias bowed down and stared at it. Part of his mind refused to believe it was truly there. It had to be a hallucination, his mind finally crumbling from the infinite void.
He tentatively reached out, only to jerk his hand back when the fingers were met with actual texture. He took a few moments to compose himself before touching a leaf again. It moved under his hand, making a little cracking sound as he pressed against it. It sounded like a dry, fallen leaf should and felt as dry as the ones that fell down the trees during autumn in Anor Londo.
It was real.
That thought jerked the knight into motion. He jumped up and as he started to look around, he realized the leaves on the ground were not the only change. It was still dark around him, but it was not the unnatural pitch black he had wandered through for days now. Instead, it was a natural dark, the kind of a place without windows. Indeed, he could detect the faint hints of light in the far distance, hinting at a place where the darkness no longer held sway.
His feet started to move again by themselves, heading towards that faint source of light. This time, it actually appeared that he was indeed moving forward. The light soon grew larger and he noticed how smell and sound slowly started to return to the world. He moved faster and faster until finally, he found the entrance of what looked like a large cave. He hurriedly stepped through, only to become frozen with awe once he did.
In front of him was a place unlike anything he had ever witnessed. A sky, more colorful than he had seen in Lordran straddled a seemingly endless forest. A bright moon, along with endless stars, cast its light over many trees and tall brown grass. Oddly shaped buildings and structures stood as tall shadows in the distance, obscured by the relative dark and the strange foliage.
The atmosphere felt like nothing he had ever experienced in his homeland. There was a certain heaviness to it. The kind one would feel while a storm was brewing. There seemed to be blood in the air, somehow, even though the landscape still looked as calm as any other at night. A feeling of foreboding came over the Knight and he looked around cautiously.
Where was he? He knew his homeland like the back of his hand and this place did not resemble Lordran in any way. It was too different, too…unnatural compared to what he knew. Like he had ended up walking into an entirely different land through the Abyss. For a moment, he wondered if he was even in the same world…
He halted that thought as soon as it flitted through his head. No, it was ridiculous. He was dead, after all. He was quite certain he was. That meant he could not be in some other kind of world. Surely, he had merely reached some other part of this strange purgatory then. Some other part of eternity…possibly with its own trials.
He became very much on edge at that thought. It would certainly explain the danger that seemed to be in the air. His senses told him that staying around like this would be dangerous to him. He was highly visible and he did not come into this world with his weapons. If he planned to brave anything in this strange new place at all, he would have to find shelter first…
“I smell weakness…”
A terrible voice, not at all human, slithered towards him on the wind. The chill that had briefly passed from his body upon entering this place returned in full. He turned in its direction, muscles tensed and hands balled to fists.
Charging at him came one of the most horrendous beings he had ever laid eyes on. It was larger than he was and somewhat humanoid in appearance, but its skin was a sickly black and red. Horns and fangs protruded from its face at odd angles, but in its dark eyes shone malevolence. Its malformed mouth pulled back into a sneer and in the light of the moon, he could see it raise a gigantic broadsword above its head.
Artorias never hesitated. He easily leaped out of the way as the sword came down. The ground muffled its heavy clang and for a moment, the creature seemed surprised that he had missed. This gave the knight a few seconds to think and he quickly glanced at his opponent to see what he could surmise.
The being he was up against was strong, he could tell. The sword it was wielding was as long as he was tall and the being was at least twice as muscular. Its armor, however, the same colors as its hideous face, seemed far heavier than his. It was made to defend, not to move swiftly. It was there that he would have the advantage.
It wasn’t long before his opponent attacked again. Artorias leaped and ducked as the giant blade came at him from all possible directions. He stayed fast on his feet as he danced around his enemy, looking for the slightest opening. When he did, he would deal a jab to any weak spot he could find and it wasn’t long before the creature worked itself up into an even bigger frenzy.
“I honor my Lord by destroying you!”
Despite his dire situation, Artorias found it in him to smile. Let it get angry and bloodthirsty. That was the first thing Ciaran had taught him when he first became a knight. A frustrated opponent was a weak one and it would only be a matter of time before this thing would tire and get even more reckless.
That prediction soon came true. The monster’s swings got slower and more erratic as it spouted more threats in that strange, unnatural voice of his. The knight made sure not to respond, merely grinning at the being to rile it up further. He was rewarded with angry bellowing as his opponent attempted yet another overheard swing and as the sword missed him once more, he closed in.
Moving faster than his enemy could, Artorias throttled him. His velocity caused both of them to hit the ground and as the creature took the brunt of it, it soon had the wind knocked out of its body. Wasting no time, the knight straddled him, before placing both his hands around the unprotected neck.
The being started to violently thrash the moment it felt the pressure on its windpipe. He dug his nails into his arms, causing deep bleeding gashes. Artorias, however, did not relent and as a last ditch resort, his enemy tried to reach for its sword. The knight acted quickly by twisting his hands. A sickening snap later, the body went motionless and he looked on without emotion as the creature's neck had bent into an unnatural angle.
With the adrenaline currently rushing through his veins, it took him several moments to register that the threat was indeed gone. He took a deep breath before pulling his hands back, getting up while carefully watching the body. His eyes then trailed towards the heavy sword and knowing he would likely need a weapon of his own, he picked it up.
It was by no means a beautiful weapon, but it was well-crafted and the way it held reminded him of his own greatsword. Even better, it was so sharp it could split a hair. He breathed out as he shook the blood of it. To the victor, the spoils…
He placed the blade over his shoulder as he walked off, trying his best to put the fight out of his mind. His mind returned to finding a shelter. His thoughts briefly returned to the cave he had stepped out of, but some part of him felt like he could not go back there, irrationally afraid he would accidentally wander back into the void. No, he would have to find a good hiding place somewhere else. Preferably a place where few people would deign to look.
He explored the area for while, quietly listening to his surroundings. The sound of rushing water then caught his attention. A waterfall, he guessed from the thunderous noise. An idea came over him and he turned towards it, making his way over as swiftly as he could.
He soon found himself standing in a clearing. He was greeted by a lake turned silver under the moon, surrounded by a ring of ancient trees. At the heart of this site was the small waterfall and he approached it. Looking around one last time to see if he was not followed, he carefully started to wade into the water and covered his head as he passed underneath the waterfall. He climbed onto the rocks behind the cascading water and sat down, allowing his mind to rest.
He figured he should be safe here, at least for a little while. This was a good thing. After an eternity of feeling no need to sleep, he found himself suddenly getting drowsy. This world was clearly not a safe place to be caught off guard, so his best option was to stay here and get some sleep, then try to investigate this world under the relative safety of the sun’s light. Provided this plane even had something akin to a dawn, at least…
Artorias decided to worry about it later. He leaned his head back against the rock and allowed his eyes to drift shut. Tomorrow was another day and danger was at least better than the endless dark.
Danger was indeed what he got. When the first rays of sun had woken him up, he’d set about exploring. He had quickly run afoul of a new kind of atrocity while doing so.
Several large, muscular men had appeared out of nowhere and tried to attack him. Using his newly found greatsword, he had fought back, but it turned out the creatures had a terrible trick up their sleeve. Suddenly, their limbs had started to elongate and fur and claws had started to appear on them until there was nothing left but oversized monstrous bear-like creatures.
The Abysswalker had panicked briefly as the sight of these unnatural creatures, but he had soon resumed the fight. Thankfully, he had been a lot quicker than the lumbering beasts and managed to dispatch all of them. For a moment, he had been proud of this achievement, but that hadn’t lasted long when he looked back at the corpses and found they had once again assumed a human form. Seeing them like this, maimed beyond recognition, had caused fear to take hold of the knight and he had wondered whether the creatures had truly been there or whether he had simply imagined it.
When he had finally pressed on, he soon found out that the strange things he was seeing were likely real. He came across many more hostile beings as he moved further away from his hiding place. Men armed to the teeth, more of the changeling bears, actual bears and ravenous wolves both as large as Sif had been. It appeared as if nearly anything in this realm tried to hunt him in one way or another. At first, it disturbed him. Then, as the day went on, it just irritated him.
As the sun set again over the strange sky, Artorias had stopped counting how many creatures he had slain. He was more surprised that he had somehow still found time to scavenge some food and obtain some hides to keep him warm and dry. By the end of the day, he had been more than fed up and he had simply retreated back to the waterfall. There, he had eaten his spoils and settled for the night, hoping to find some rest.
It was bloodcurdling howls that stirred the knight from his sleep hours later. The first thought in his drowsy mind was that it was wolves surely, but the longer the ungodly noise went on the more he started to doubt it. No kind of wolf he knew ever sounded so frighteningly…human.
His concern grew even greater when he realized the howls were coming closer. It had to be more than one creature, he was certain of that, and even hiding behind the waterfall he was not certain he was beyond reach. Instinctively, he got up and picked up his sword. Somewhere, he hoped that the howling pack of beasts would simply pass him by, but his gut told him that it was always best to prepare for the worst.
Time seemed to go by agonizingly slow and the Abysswalker found himself not moving a muscle. His eyes shifted from the waterfall back to his greatsword. He quietly studied the red veins, seemingly pulsing like a heart, in the jet-black metal. What kind of being could possibly craft a weapon like this? It seemed like some kind of dark magic to him. Still, he found he could not wonder about it very long. All he truly cared about was whether it could protect him from whatever was wandering around outside the waterfall.
Once more, the howling neared. He could hear footsteps by now. His fingers clutched around his sword, though he did not yet make any efforts to lift it. He simply waited, biding his time as to conserve energy. Even if the creatures outside had somehow caught on to his scent, it was best not to give away his position prematurely.
Then, there were shadows on the other side of the water. Large, looming shadows of giant creatures that did not seem quite wolf or man. Even over the rushing of the water, he could hear their growls and snarls. They approached rapidly and he could hear the splashing in the lake as they waded into it. His grip on his sword tightened. He would likely have to fight…
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the growling ceased. The beings on the other side stilled. They stepped aside and something else stepped forward from their midst. Whatever it was, it seemed the creatures feared it, as they scrambled out of the way rather hurriedly.
A large shadow was cast across the cascading water. It was a man, Artorias could tell. Yet it was not a normal man. Like the demon, he was at least as tall as him and his head did not seem to be human. It lacked the general shape and large horns seemed to grow out of his skull. Its inhumanity was clear to him and if anything, he reminded him of an unusually large Capra Demon. He mentally prepared himself to face this new foe, when suddenly, the “man” spoke.
“You there! I know you are hiding here! Show yourself!”
The Abysswalker did not respond nor made a move. He did not trust the being. He was hard-pressed to trust anyone he came across after the welcome he had received so far. So he stayed, still holding his new weapon at the ready, quietly staring down the shadow.
“You have been quite busy, mortal. You have been laying waste to my realm, killing many of my beasts and devout worshippers alike. The very least you can do is face the lord whose domain you have plundered.”
His haughty tone caused Artorias to growl, though his tone remained surprisingly calm as he replied. “I have killed thine creatures, for they would surely have killed me if I had not. If thou wisheth for contrition over this, then thou shalt have none.”
A short silence settled across the clearing and nothing was heard except water. He could see the shadows shift awkwardly. The Capra Demon remained frozen and the knight would have given a fortune to know what it was thinking, if it was indeed capable of such complex thought.
“Show yourself. I wish to see a man who would speak to me in a way so peculiar yet without remorse.”
The Abysswalker weighed his options. The sensible part of him was aware that walking up to a pack of monsters was tantamount to suicide. Yet he knew that he would also be trapped if he remained here and the creatures decided to enter his hideout. As appalled as he was by the idea of showing himself, it seemed open combat was the most viable option.
Gathering his wits, he rose to his feet and waded out with his sword in hand. He fought to keep an even face as he came to meet the creatures waiting outside. They reminded him of the shapeshifting bear men he had met during the day, only somehow more revolting. These things resembled a terrible hybrid between wolves and humans and their teeth shone in the moonlight. They growled fiercely, their master’s hand the only thing that stayed them from tearing him apart then and there.
He walked up to the Capra Demon and regarded him in absolute silence. The being seemed to do the same. For the first time, Artorias swore there was a sense of apprehension about the creature. There was only a small hint of it, however, when he spoke.
“You did not come here from Mundus. Your soul… It feels tainted by darkness. What is your name, slayer?”
In spite of his own caution, the knight replied. “Artorias. Artorias the Abysswalker.”
The Capra Demon smiled. “Yet now, it seems, you walk Oblivion. The Dreamsleeve must have a cruel sense of humor, if it somehow drew you in and spat you out at my Hunting Grounds.”
Artorias had not the faintest clue what the creature spoke of. The only word that truly lingered in his mind was “oblivion”. Was that the name of the place he was in? It certainly sounded like some cruel kind of purgatory. He did not dwell on that for too long, as the creature continued speaking.
“No matter. How you came here is of little importance. You are a valiant fighter and it has been a long time since I faced a worthy opponent. So fight, Artorias Oblivion-Walker. Accept this honor and face Hircine, the great Hunter himself!”
With those words, the being that called himself Hircine took a step back and raised his spear. The growling of the hounds started anew as they backed away and formed a circle. They pounded their hideous paws on the surface of the water, like the thundering of war drums. Their jaws snapped at the air, hungry for blood that was not yet there. Artorias could see the excitement in their eyes and he found that it angered him.
He was no one’s prey. No one’s puppet. He had already been that for far too long under Gwyn’s increasingly instable rule and when he fell under the corruption of the Abyss. That had caused him enough to wind up dead and fall into the void, only to end up here on these miserable “Hunting Grounds”. He had played a pawn in the game of lords before, but no more.
He turned his greatsword and slammed it into the water. It buried itself into the silt below it. He stepped away from the sword, his eyes not once leaving Hircine’s.
“I refuse to fight thee. Give thy honor to a man more eager for it.”
For a moment, there was nothing but the growling of the monsters. Hircine lowered his spear somewhat and Artorias could sense surprise in him. Yet as quickly as that emotion flitted through his would-be opponent, it was gone again. A laugh came out of his mouth and the knight decided it was the most horrid laugh he had ever heard.
“Perhaps you need incentive. Allow me to provide that for you.”
He looked away from the clearing towards the woods. “A day or so ago, we found the most unusual creature here. A wolf, larger than those in Mundus and even those in my Realm. Strangely enough, however, it did not run from us. In fact, it seems quite tame. And it seems to carry a hint of the same thing that affects your soul…”
He stretched out his hand and even from where he stood, the Abysswalker could feel a strange kind of power emanating from it. A howl, chillingly familiar, sounded from the forest. Within moments, a large creature stepped into the clearing, its eyes reflecting the moon above.
Artorias barely even realized that he was gaping at the creature. Even though it had grown so much, he still effortlessly recognized it. How could he not? He would recognize his faithful companion anywhere.
“Sif!”
The wolf’s ears perked up upon hearing his name. He moved its head into the direction of his voice. Even from where he stood, Artorias could see his friend recognized him and he tried to rush over, tongue hanging out of his mouth.
He didn’t get far, however. An invisible force held the wolf back. He clawed and fought, whining desperately, but whatever bonds held him would not relent. The knight could feel his heart break that very instant, only to be startled by Hircine’s laugh.
“Ah, Sif. So that is what its name is. It is a fine creature. Unfortunately, it has become mine once it entered this realm. Perhaps I should make it one of my hounds. Or give it to my own hounds to hunt. Slaying such a beast would make for a fine tale indeed.”
Whatever anger Artorias had felt before suddenly boiled over. Without even looking, his hands found their way to his sword. In one swift motion, he yanked it out of the silt and pointed it towards his foe. He swore he could see Hircine’s unnatural face turn into a twisted smile.
“Now, that is more like it.”
Then and there, he suddenly sped forward and Artorias dashed out of the way of his spear. He swung his sword at the demon’s head and he rapidly ducked to avoid his head being severed. The knight parried his spear as he charged again, then stepped flipped forward to bring his sword down like a hammer. Hircine stumbled, but quickly found his footing again for a next attack.
Artorias hissed as the point of the spear suddenly caught his shoulder, but as Hircine tried to drive it through, he lashed out. A large bleeding cut formed all across the demon’s chest as he staggered back. The Abysswalker took this moment to tear out the spear and swiped at him, moving forward with the rage of a thousand men.
The fight seemed to last forever. Hircine proved a tough opponent, fast and strong and not afraid to play dirty. Steel clashed, blood was drawn and the wolves howled in excitement as he and his opponent tried to avoid each other blows. Neither of them was willing to back down, with Hircine fighting for sport and Artorias fighting for his life and Sif’s.
Saving his companion was what gave the Abysswalker his strength. Even when he felt tiredness, he kept charging forward and the stinging of his many wounds meant nothing to him. He failed Sif before, condemning him to being trapped in a protective barrier for who knew how long. Now he was here, the Gods knew how, and he decided then and there he was never going to fail his friend again.
Hircine seemed far less affected than he was, but he was not unscathed either. Several deep cuts adorned his body and he seemed far too enveloped in his own bloodlust to truly think ahead. Dodging the demon’s weapon started to become easier to him the longer the fight went on. He smiled. This was not the first time he had fought someone proficient with a spear. This was very much like training with Ornstein. And this creature was nowhere near as fast as Ornstein had been.
Hircine came at him once more and Artorias readied himself. As he thrust his spear forward, the Abysswalker took his chance. He lifted his sword up, but rather than trying to strike his foe, he brought it down on the spear instead. The weapon became trapped under the sword’s immense wait and the more its owner tugged at it to retrieve it, the more force the knight applied.
The snap of wood suddenly reached both their ears. For a brief moment, shock flashed across the demon’s face. Artorias could feel a wicked grin etch into his own features and faster than he had ever moved in his life, he descended onto his now unarmed opponent.
The demon’s head bounced back at he hit it with the broad side of his sword. The knight then rapidly slashed at his feet, refusing to let him regain his balance as he stumbled. He then moved up close and bashed his head against his opponent, sending him tumbling into the shallow water.
The Abysswalker walked to Hircine’s side and firmly placed a boot onto his chest, holding him under the water and refusing to let him scramble up for air. In this moment, he could not care less if killing this demon would incite the wrath of his hounds. He was still enraged enough to take on all of them and after threatening to kill Sif, he would gladly take their lives as well.
A bright purple light then blinded him and out of nowhere, Artorias could feel his boot touching nothing but silt. Realizing his opponent was no longer there, worry took hold of him. The fiend had escaped using magic! He jerked his head around, gripping his weapon looking for his enemy. The demon was trying to trick him, he was certain of it!
Then, in a burst of the same purple light, Hircine appeared again, mere inches in front of him. Not wasting a moment, the knight readied his sword for yet another attack. The fiend, however, did not move and, instead, bowed his head with what seemed like approval.
“Well done, hunter.”
The compliment, spoken with utmost sincerity, caught him off guard. He only barely kept himself from lowering his weapon, afraid that this was yet another ploy. The demon seemed to notice this and spread out his hands at his sides, as if to indicate he was not planning on anything.
“You have engaged me in combat and won. Now, I shall give you my favor.”
He turned towards the shore and raised his hand. Whatever was holding Sif dissipated and the wolf leaped towards Artorias. A sense of elation came over the knight as the animal’s face pressed against his. He held close to his loyal friend, for a moment forgetting that he was surrounded by foes. Even Hircine seemed somewhat moved by this scene, but his voice betrayed nothing as he spoke again.
“Take your wolf. You have earned its life. And now, my gift to you…”
Before Artorias truly realized it, the demon had approached. He reached out to his sword and ran his hand over the blade. Blood started to well up from the cut, before seemingly being consumed by the weapon. He then pressed his bloody hand against the wound on the knight’s shoulder. The Abysswalker hissed at the sudden pressure and the burning that the mixing of the blood caused.
Hircine leaned over, looking him directly in the eye. “My gift to you is the gift of beast blood. May it provide you with strength and courage on your Hunts, until we see each other again in these Hunting Grounds.”
The knight did not understand nor was he certain he wanted to. Was this demon intending to let him go? He had a hard time believing it. He should know better by now than to trust the supernatural.
Suddenly, the purple energy returned. It surrounded both him and Sif, crawling up both their bodies. The wolf yelped and Artorias reached over to help them, but found himself nailed to the ground as the energy enveloped him. He fell to his knees, hands still outstretched to his companion to no avail.
Now certain he had been tricked, he looked over to Hircine with rage. His mouth opened to curse him, but nothing came out. The demon did not seem to be the least bit affected by his glares, simply smiling.
“One last thing. A year from now, you may wish to visit Falkreath Hold. That day, you will find a Hunt there unlike any other with prey sweeter than you can imagine.”
As the knight threw him one last wordless curse, he nodded. “Well met, Artorias Oblivion-Walker.”
By now, the energy had completely overtaken him and he could feel the sight flee from his eyes. He tried his best to fight it, to stay conscious and try to break free to help Sif. He fought as much as he could, but within a short time, an unknown force pulled him away and everything turned to black.
Cold.
That was the only thing Artorias could feel. Bitter cold, like the one caused by the bite of winter. He shivered uncontrollably, huddling into a ball for protection.
He was back in the void. He had to be. The demon had sent him back to whence he came. When he would open his eyes, he would once again be greeted by endless darkness. Alone in blackness… He was not certain if he could bear that yet again…
Something then pressed against his face. Something warm and wet ran across his forehead and an object that felt like a hairy snout nudged him. Despite his best attempts to ignore it, he eventually felt compelled to open his eyes. They widened as soon as he did. Leaning over him, whining in concern, was Sif.
"Ah, Sif. There you are.”
Without thinking, Artorias scrambled up and put his arms around the giant wolf’s head. He did not protest, holding still to accept his master’s affection. The knight was glad he didn’t. Right now, he was loath to let go, afraid that his companion would disappear once more.
After several moments, however, the reality of the situation hit the Abysswalker. He released his friend from his hold and shivered. He only now realized that he did not have any clothes on him and was standing on the edge of a snowy forest. He put his arms around himself, leaning against Sif for warmth, trying to make sense of this bizarre new situation.
This place felt different, he realized. Cold, but normal, the one you would expect in winter. The air felt clear and vibrant. The sounds of animals could be heard in the distance. It lacked the bleakness of the void or the bloody smell of Hircine’s realm. For lack of a better word, everything about this place felt…alive.
A deep confusion settled over him. Had it all been a dream, he wondered. Had there not been an endless darkness or inhuman Hunting Grounds? Had he even truly died in the Colosseum of Oolacile? Had it all been some kind of mad fever dream and had he simply wandered off only to end up here?
He wanted to believe that with all his heart, but something deep inside him told him it was not so. There was a strange urge in his veins now. A primal desire to hunt and fight and kill. He could hear and smell things much clearer than before, down to the heartbeat of the wolf beside him. Something in him had changed and for some reason, he found he did not fear it.
He took a step forward, only to still when his feet hit something. He looked down in confusion. At his feet was a strange cuirass and a set of boots. It was made of chainmail and fur and looked extremely sturdy but light. The boots were made of leather and wolf fur, promising a welcome barrier between the snow and his feet.
Figuring it was preferable over his current naked state, the Abysswalker reached out and grabbed the items, putting them on. He was relieved to see they fitted his large frame. Yet as he fastened the straps, he soon noticed it was not the only item lying in the snow. There was something else, an item he was startlingly familiar with.
A greatsword, deep black with red veins.
For several long seconds, he stared at it. A flurry of thoughts swarmed through his head. It had been real. All of it. Both the void and the Hunting Grounds were planes he had passed through. He had truly fought some kind of demon to save Sif and had then been expelled from those worlds.
Indeed, Sif was here with him. So was the sword he had fought with. He himself was brimming with a strange kind of feral power he did not understand, but he was indeed alive again and, from what he could tell, in some kind of plane that felt alive.
The demon, this Hircine, had apparently kept his word.
Artorias was not certain how to feel about this. Not that it was his main concern anyway. Here he was in the middle of a strange land that he did not know, with nothing to turn to. Finding his bearings, and potentially some food and shelter, were a greater concern than contemplating the motives of inhuman forces.
As he looked around his environment, petting Sif with one hand, he noticed something. He was standing at the edge of where a forest met a large open plain, one that looked equally hostile and frigid. Yet in the distance, there was also something else.
Even from where he stood, Artorias could faintly make out a hill, surrounded by city walls and a large building on top of it. Whatever little he could see of the architecture was unknown to him and after the hostility of the Hunting Grounds, he was not sure what he might find there. Still, he couldn’t help but feel an irresistible pull towards it.
A sign of life. Not home at all, as something told him he would never see his home again, but a sign of life. And, quite possibly, a new start.
His decision was made. He picked up the greatsword and strapped it to his back. He then petted Sif, delighting in his companion’s presence and feeling immeasurable happiness at having him back at his side. He gave him one look, before doing the one thing he had been doing so far to not stay trapped in misery.
He walked.
“Let us go, Sif. Let us go and see what this place has in store for us.”
He smiled as the wolf happily followed them, united in this new adventure. He had walked through the Abyss and apparently through a place named Oblivion, when there was nothing but death surrounding him. Now that he was back in a place that seemed so alive, he was certain he could walk a little more.