Northern Valley Dancer (DS3)

She was fighting again, barely conscious inside that body modified by dark magic, she didn't know how much time had passed, she didn't understand, her life was never supposed to be like this

It all came down to that damned Sulyvahn; he took her life, her world, her dignity, turning her into his toy, his beast, just like her beloved Vordt. Would he be alright? Would he be safe?

Against his will, his body moved nimbly, his flaming sword trying to reach his enemy, surely another being of ash, another trying to rekindle the flame

When her eyes moved to look at her hands, there it was, the ring, that thing the pontiff gave her before sending them away, when he forced her to join the Precursor Knights. It was all a trap to take power. She wondered about Gwyndolin, her goddess. How was her home?

The fight continued, terrible. This being was difficult, powerful, using all kinds of abilities. She tried to scream, tried to beg for help; perhaps this entity could save her. But only a bestial shriek escaped her throat. Her body moved against her mind, and she grasped her shadowy sword. This was her reality: she couldn't control her body, and perhaps she never would again.

He remembered his mother; he could barely make out her face. He remembered that peace, a warm light; that was his only comfort. He didn't even remember her name, much less her voice, only the feeling of an inhuman peace.

Then he felt something; in the middle of the fight, the ash-like being struck his hand. The ring broke, shattered, and fell to pieces on the ground. Then, before he lost consciousness, he managed to speak for the first time in years.

“Please, help me, I beg you.”

After that, he was simply lost in the darkness...

A tall woman, seemingly long, with a spindly body and a shattered mind, doesn't know how many years she's lost; her voice is a barely perceptible thread, her fragmented mind only knows how to fight.