The Mist of the Lands Between
When I chose to embark on a new Souls, it was not a light decision. For many, it is but a stroll. For others—like myself, with limited time—it becomes a vast commitment that may last for months. It is not a choice to make lightly, for it means setting aside other pursuits. And let us be honest: a game of this kind must be lived, not rushed.
What I had not considered, however, was that beyond the many bosses scattered throughout the world, I would face two more. Bosses upon whom no in-game buff would ever have effect. They were, in truth, the hardest of them all.
Yet, in the end, with them I shared the joy of completing the journey.
A special thanks to my consort, who helped me “taunt” the little bosses, making the trial more bearable and the triumph all the more shared.
And so begins the poem, The Mist of the Lands Between.
In the fading of light… as the Padless One walketh his way… two presences stir… eternal in shadow.
Ciri… the Grey… devourer of silence. With subtle step… with hidden claw… she teareth will from mind.
Zelda… the Dark… lady of shadows. From nothing she descendeth… and with lament… she smothereth the flame of will.
They are no gods… no men… no beasts. But wardens… of Eternal Disturbance. And the Lands Between… demand their dominion… over the fate… of the Padless One.
Thus is the tale inscribed… not in sword… nor in fire… but in cruel onslaught… and woeful lament.
Arise… O Padless One. Fulfil thy fate. Step forth… Transfigure thy way… into relics arcane… and reclaim the realm… that once was… a dwelling of mirth… now lost.
Where triumph is never certain… and defeat beareth a visage feline… sweet… beguiling… yet merciless… as the eternal.
And all was hushed… all did cease… in a slumber deep… awaiting the morrow’s light.