In the Age of Ancients, the world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of grey crags, archtrees, and everlasting dragons. But then there was Fire. And with Fire, came Disparity...
Heat and cold, life and death, and of course... Light and Dark.
Thus began the Age of Fire. But soon, the flames will fade, and only Dark will remain.
There is no path. Beyond the scope of light, beyond the reach of Dark… What could possibly await us? And yet, we seek it, insatiably… Such is our fate.
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Every age it seems is tainted by the greed of men. Rubbish to one such as I, devoid of all worldly wants. I don't know. Maybe it's just the way we are.
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Why, why? After all this searching, I still cannot find it... Was it all a lie? Have I done this all, for nothing? Oh, my dear sun... What now, what should I do...? ...My sun, my dear, dear sun...
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Yhorm, old friend, I, Siegward of the Knights of Catarina, have come to uphold my promise. Let the Sun Shine upon this Lord of Cinder!
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Even now, there are only embers, and man sees not light, but only endless nights. And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Darksign.
The Darksign brands the Undead. And in this land, the Undead are corralled and led to the north, where they are locked away, to await the end of the world.
...This is your fate. Only, in the ancient legends it is stated, that one day an Undead shall be chosen to leave the Undead Asylum.
In pilgrimage, to the land of the Ancient Lords, Lordran.
Duties we each bear, but one's duty is a solitary affair.
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