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The Fire Keeper stared, unseeing, after the retreating form of her champion until it was completely obscured by the smoke of the bonfire. Once the noises ceased and she knew that she was alone, she raised her hands haltingly to her chest and clasped them there, her breathing unsteady. Fear clawed at her belly like so many of the beasts that her champion must face. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. As the Fire Keeper of Firelink Shrine, she had sworn herself to lead a life of darkness. It was a sacred duty, and one that she had trained for her entire life in order to deserve. In a macabre way, it was amusing how so many years of worshipping the dark could be lost with just one taste of the light. She wondered if her champion was even aware of the impact that she had on her. If she knew that she was causing her soul to burn, just by being near. To partake in the warmth of light was a sin most foul in the unseeing eyes of the Fire Keepers, but she found that its burning left behind the sweetest aftertaste.
The nerves in her hands were too burnt to perceive sensation, but they could still detect pressure in its most general form. It was as such that when their fingers had brushed against one another while her champion had given her the souls that she had last harvested, she could still register the pressure of the contact. That was all that it took to ignite her nerves with phantom sensation, sending waves of treacherous warmth to her face where she was certain that they had made themselves known. She had, on instinct, clutched her hand close to her chest and furrowed her brow in confusion. Her champion had apologized vehemently at that. As it should be. And yet, the Fire Keeper had needed to fight back the desire to reach back out and take her hand once more. They had spoken a little more after that. The warm, rich timbre of her champion’s voice only tended the flame within her, but she couldn’t force herself to mind. She had asked a few more questions than normal, spoken a little longer… anything to hear that sound which brought a forbidden warmth to her chest, provided her with but a bit of light in the darkness.
“Fire Keeper?” that was not her voice.
The Fire Keeper looked up, momentarily stirred from her thoughts by the familiar sound of Anri’s voice. She stood and greeted him accordingly. He knelt before her, and they began the process of rehoming the sovereignless souls that he had procured during his journeys. As he pulled away, the Fire Keeper deliberately brushed their fingers together. Aside from the dull sensation of pressure, there was nothing. Although a flame still burned within her whenever she thought of her champion, the same response did not occur for Anri. They spoke a few words in parting, and then she returned to her seat. She heard Anri leave with Horace in tow not long after. This flame that burned within the depths of her soul, when had it been lit? She had only noticed it earlier today, and yet as she reflected she found that it had been there for some time.
She felt it brighten within her whenever she would hear the familiar footfalls of her champion as she returned to the shrine. Her heart would jump. Everything would feel lighter, and that feeling often wouldn’t go away until her champion left. The flame would dance and weave itself around the darkness inside of her to the inflection of her champion’s voice whenever she spoke. It had been that way for some time. It certainly hadn’t been that way when they had met. When had the flame been lit? Now that it was there, she could do nought but marvel at its gentle warmth. Never before had her thoughts been so consumed with another person.
Her mind was usually blank, a void waiting to be filled when it could be of use. That was what she was supposed to be- the physical vessel for an invaluable tool that a champion might use to serve their mutual purpose. It wasn’t as if she had never had thoughts. She was, after all, human. She had been born human and raised to serve a purpose greater than herself, but she was still human. However her training had made her adept at silencing the thoughts and listening to the infinite darkness as she awaited someone who would need her. After all, the duty of a Fire Keeper was, first and foremost, to keep the fire. Nothing could get in the way of that, least of all human thoughts and emotions. Yet here she was, harboring a forbidden light and thinking forbidden thoughts in lieu of her usual dormant state. They were beginning to become unbearable. She sought out the lyre that her champion had found. She found it quickly- it was, after all, exactly where she had left it.
The Fire Keeper plucked a string experimentally. A rich, sweet sound came from the tiny instrument. She began to caress the strings with a delicate hand, which created her favorite timbre- soft, almost mournful, and thought back to when her champion had first brought the lyre to the shrine. Perhaps that was when the flame had been lit.
She heard the bonfire ignite and sputter once, twice, a third time. The footsteps of her champion, a sound which was quickly becoming familiar to her, moved softly through the ash that surrounded the fire. That rich voice, rough around the edges, spoke with another. The Fire Keeper inclined her head dutifully in her champion’s direction. She would be useful as soon as she was needed. Eventually, the footsteps continued in her direction.
“Hello again, Fire Keeper.” The voice was so warm, so impossibly full of life.
“Welcome home, Ashen one,” she replied softly, “speak thine heart’s desire.”
“I wanted to apologize for before,” spoke her champion.
The Fire Keeper inclined her head.
“Whatever for?” she inquired.
“When I offered thee the tome,” her champion replied, “that was foolish of me. I had been so excited when I found something that I thought might bring thee joy… It was unkind of me. I am sorry.”
The Fire Keeper did not know what to do when presented with an apology. It had never happened before. People did not apologize to her. She was a tool, merely a vessel for an important asset. Although the offense had not been grave- there was no way that her champion could possibly have known that her hands were burned beyond the ability to read Braille- she found herself at a lack for words involving how to express this. To do so would be to directly contradict her champion, which was not something that a Fire Keeper did unless the champion were to stray from the path that was their birthright. Her face a placid mask, she fumbled internally for any possible means of response.
“I… accept… thine apology,” she spoke woodenly after a pause that went on for far too long.
“Thanks…” her champion replied, just as awkwardly.
There was another pause that went on for far too long.
“Well,” said her champion, “I’ll just… yeah.”
She hastily made her exit. The Fire Keeper pretended that her acute hearing did not pick up the sound of her champion stumbling over her own feet on her way out. Was this really the same woman who had single-handedly defeated a Lord of Cinder?
It was much later, when the central chamber of the shrine was mostly empty, that the Fire Keeper heard something. It was very distant, but unmistakeably there. Filtering in from above, perhaps the second tier of her shrine, was the most peculiar sound. It was a soft, floating sound which danced delicately through the air- deliberate, human, but not of any voice. The Fire Keeper had never heard it before. She rose to her feet and slowly made her way up the stairs that led to the second tier of the shrine. Beyond that, there was a platform that led to a section of three windows of stone. She could hear the wind of the outside world- a sound that she was not often privy to anymore. Someone was sitting outside, and… and what? The noise was unmistakable now. A few heavenly notes drifted whimsically through the air, before a discordant one suddenly ruined them. A familiar voice cursed at that, and the Fire Keeper raised a hand to her mouth in order to cover her smile. She wandered up to one of the open windows and leaned against its stone frame, angling her head in the direction of her champion. The notes continued with no apparent melody, often interrupted by something off-key and another soft curse. After a while, her curiosity got the better of her. She considered… asking something of the champion. Such behavior was not explicitly forbidden, she supposed.
“Ashen one,” she inquired, “that sound… if I might, what is it?”
There was a soft thud and a sharp inhale. She had dropped something, perhaps.
“Funny thing about waking up with no memories,” her champion replied, “I’m not really sure. But I know it’s an instrument. I just can’t figure out how to play it.”
Their conversation had ended there, as her champion hastily apologized for slacking off and returned to the bonfire. She left the lyre, though. Tentatively, the Fire Keeper stepped outside and searched for it. Upon finding it, she brought it with her back into the shrine. She had sat there for hours, slowly learning to tune it. The hardest part was locating and understanding the bits that tuned the strings- as for the actual sound, she found that she just knew how each string should sound. It reached a certain point where the key just felt right. After that, she had experimented with it. It didn’t take her too long to find that the warm, rich sound was quite pleasant. When the shrine was vacant of Unkindled and silence laid its claim, she found great pleasure in producing something so beautiful. Although she was but a vessel, the Fire Keeper had found that she could create something beyond herself and the purpose that she was bound to serve.
The memory finished, the Fire Keeper’s thoughts slowly drifted back to the present with the sound of her gentle strumming. Although reflecting on their exchanges always stoked the flames within, she didn’t seem to experience any warmth towards her champion during the memory itself. Her heart glowed at the mere idea that this lyre had been so graciously gifted to her; that her champion had been so willing- eager, even- to give her such a gift once she had noticed how much she enjoyed it. That she had tried to do the same for everyone within the shrine. It was strange, to be cared for. Especially when there was no particular reason for it. She would always be there for her champion, regardless of whether or not she showed interest in her. And yet she always came back with questions, always seemed genuinely curious about her, genuinely excited to talk about things that she might like. Always very eager to share what small bits of good she scavenged from the broken and cruel world beyond the shrine.
“Fire Keeper!”
She looked up as her name was called in that familiar voice. It was beautifully deep, and just a bit addictive.
“Welcome home, Ashen one,” she spoke dutifully, “speak thine heart’s desire.”
“You’ll- sorry, thou shalt never believe what I just found,” the woman spoke excitedly.
The Fire Keeper felt a small smile tug at her lips, unbidden. Her excitement was contagious.
“Whatever is it?” she inquired softly.
The Fire Keeper nearly startled at the sound of her own voice. It was laced with something unfamiliar to her, something that she had never heard before from any other person.
“An apple,” her champion replied, “a normal, healthy apple. Uncorrupted! All is not lost! Things can still grow! I am going to plant its seeds in the cemetery and see if another tree grows therein. But the fruit itself,” she paused, and the Fire Keeper could hear her draw her blade.
She didn’t flinch. She knew that her champion would never hurt her. There was instead the sound of something organic and crisp being cut open, and moments later she smelled something vaguely sweet. There was a pressure against her open palm and she instinctively grabbed it.
“well, it has already been picked. The only good use for it now is for it to be eaten. Try it, if thou art so inclined.”
The Fire Keeper raised the object to her mouth and took a bite, and- oh. It was so impossibly sweet with just a bit of sour. She didn’t realize that she had consumed the rest of the slice until it was gone.
“Ashen one, whatever I have done to be deserving of such a gift…” she breathed, “I thank thee.”
“Of course,” her champion replied, “thou art a good friend to me. Now, I’m going to go and give these to everyone else.”
The Fire Keeper heard her hop to her feet and run off. She was so… genuinely excited to share what good she found in the world. The Fire Keeper didn’t know if she had ever met anyone like that. She sat there quietly, listening to the distant voices of the other denizens of the shrine as they tried the apple, savoring its sweet aftertaste.
A smile tugged at her lips in the present as she plucked aimlessly at her lyre. Unbeknownst to her champion, she had opened herself up in that moment to ceaseless hedging whenever she brought fruits home afterwards. Upon hearing her cut open a fruit, the Fire Keeper would often move to sit next to her. She would then gently nudge her champion’s leg with her own. There would be an affectionate sigh, and then the woman would pass her well more than half of whatever fruit she had scavenged and they would both share it in an amicable silence. Though neither of them needed to eat, the sweetness was a welcome change from the ashen monotony of the day-to-day.
Her hands stilled on the lyre as a thought came to her mind unbidden. She wondered, briefly, if the taste would remain on her champion’s lips after she had eaten the fruit. Would it overpower everything else, or would the sweetness mingle with something different, some flavor that she perhaps had yet to sample? Would she need to search deeper still, should she desire-
“Hello again, Fire Keeper,” that warm, rich voice stirred her from her musings.
She felt her cheeks heat up with the forbidden warmth of a flame that should not be able to exist, and she hastily got to her feet, almost knocking her champion over in the process. She had been standing a bit closer than the Fire Keeper had prepared for.
“Welcome home, ashen one!” she exclaimed, completely normally, definitely not flustered at all, “speak thine heart’s desire!”