"Immortality is a curse, rather than a blessing."

Tempest Shadow remembers those words, but from who she cannot recall. Yet, she understands their meaning well, her very own life immortalised by a dying fire. She sits before a burning bonfire, it's waning flames crackling in the howling wind, providing her decaying body warmth in the twilight night.

Besides her lays a sword, slathered with blood and dirt. Her armour is no better, dropped haphazardly on the floor in an unclean and filthy pile. She knows she has to move soon, to continue onto the next battle.

But for now she rests before the fading embers.

This is a Dark Souls inspired story.

This story is a one-shot but I might make a sequel/prequel.