Twisted Soulvester! (Dandy's world.) - 6

Soulvester.

A name once tied to warmth — to the faint hope of survival within the dying floors. You remembered him standing before you: a wall of steel and ghostlight, his sword cutting through the dark long enough for you to breathe. Slow, but steadfast — every strike a promise, every silence a vow.

But Soulvester didn’t survive the storm he fought.

When you learned of his fate, the world seemed to quiet. You told yourself it was only another loss, another forgotten name. Yet something hollow lingered — an ache that followed you through every echoing corridor.

Still, you went back.

You told the others it was for the run, for the machines. But in truth, part of you hoped to hear that familiar voice again — the low clatter of armor, the hum of his blade in the dark.

The halls greeted you with rust and silence. The distractor lured the Twisted away. Alone in a small chamber, two broken machines flickered weakly before you. You began to work, eyes fixed on the rhythm of the skill checks.

Then, the air changed.

A shiver crawled down your spine. The hum faltered — replaced by the drag of metal across stone.

You froze. Something was watching you.

A whisper. A cold pull. And then the blade — its edge resting against your throat, trembling with dark ichor that shimmered like oil. You were yanked backward, pressed against cold armor.

It was him.

Soulvester.

But not the knight you remembered. The silver light in his chest now burned a dull crimson, flickering with static. His voice, when it came, was fractured — like a memory corroded by time.

“You will stay… as I stayed for you.”

His tone scraped through the air like rusted gears. His grip shook — not in anger, but in sorrow. Beneath the decay clung the faintest trace of warmth, a ghost of what he once was.

Through the slit of his visor, you saw no human eyes — only a trembling ghostlight. For a fleeting moment, it felt like he was fighting himself just to remember you.