Specters of our Past and Future

Artorias kept his ground, staring through the sea of fireflies and into the darkness. The whispering had fallen silent for the moment, and all he could hear was the gentle rustle of the wind and the distant waves from the ocean. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a low laugh began. What started as a subtle chuckle rapidly grew into a manic, rasping laugh as the wind whipped around him. It no longer held any semblance of Resin in its tones, further solidifying Artorias' suspicions that this was not his mother's ghost and instead some sort of demon mimicking her. The laughter got louder and more menacing as the wind grew stronger. It tossed his fur about, but still Artorias did not back down or retreat. He grit his teeth and stared into the darkness as if he were facing off with an enemy he couldn't see.

Gradually the laughter began to die down along with the wind, yet still the voice rang in his ear. His ears flicked to try and rid himself of the ominous sound, but still it persisted, echoing about his skull like the darkness had seeped into his brain. Briar's concerned voice drowned out the laughter, and the young brute glanced to his beloved while she stared at him, brow creased with worry. His hardened expression softened when he saw the genuine fear in her turquoise eyes, her voice keeping him held down to earth amidst all this madness. He drew in a deep breath, peering back into the dark of the night for a brief moment.

He had been about to agree with her that they needed to go when all of a sudden the swarm of fireflies that had blocked them in together just vanished in the blink of an eye, all of them fading into the aether at once. Every. Single. One. The blue glow was gone, and now darkness had crept in around them. Only the moon's heavy glow illuminated the world in a sickly silver-teal sheen. Artorias drew in a shuddering breath, feeling more perturbed by the retreat of the strange fireflies than comforted by their absence. "Maybe you're right," he mumbled under his breath, keeping his guarded gaze up and around the dark of night that had encroached toward them. When the ghostly lightning bugs decided to leave en masse, that couldn't be a good omen.

"Artorias Carpathius"