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Dark Soles

Chapter 3

Sponsored by Rickochet

by Draconicon

Dropped into a land that he had only heard of with nothing to his name but a canvas talisman, the yellowed remnants of the white robe that he had worn all those years ago, and a mace whose sharper points had been worn down to little more than nubs by age, Nero knew that he would be easy pickings to anyone that had a serious bone to pick with him. The rabbit shivered at the thought of one of the more powerful Undead finding him, killing him, Hollowing him until he was no better than they were, and then...

Well, everyone knew what happened to a Hollow once they reached that point. There was no coming back if they were killed one more time, and that was what had overwhelmed the churches of Astora, little by little. It was why he had volunteered to go to the Asylum and minister to those that were sent there, so that they might have had one little bit of comfort before they passed for good.

The pink-furred rabbit winced, pausing on the stairs up to the ruined church that looked over the bonfire and the crazed rabbit warrior that watched over it. That had completely blown up in his face, but how was he supposed to know that they'd been aware of his -

"It wasn't heresy," he muttered, his fingers curling tighter against the stone pillar. "It wasn't...it was just...curiosity."

Was it heresy when you could tell that there was something missing in the parables and catechisms of the Way of White? He didn't think so, but he'd known that some of the priests took any question about the way that the ancients had written their religion as nothing short of blasphemy. There were no holes, only a lack of understanding, or so they said.

Nero was pretty sure that they were right. After all, it had taken him at least two years to finish all the tomes that the Way of White held as sacred - even though most people took ten - and he had asked so many questions during his studies of the books. Maybe that was his problem. He hadn't asked the right questions of the right people. Or maybe -

"No, don't think..." Nero pressed his hand to his forehead, breathing out slowly. "That's forbidden. The dragons are forbidden."

Not to mention dead, by all accounts. He wasn't exactly going to get answers for the other side of the story from a corpse, was he?

Unless -

Nero stomped down on his rebellious thoughts. The rabbit had already been locked up for disrupting the way that the church worked back at home once. If he didn't get a hold of himself, his deviant thoughts, his heretical way of thinking, then he would just end up in a worse situation.

At least this shrine offered plenty of things to distract him. It looked like a truly ancient place of power, and the church, while not a cathedral, was large enough to indicate that it had been necessary at one point. He wondered who had come here, and why there was no clear village or town to supply the churchgoers closeby.

He walked up the steps, ignoring the soft caw-caw sound of the bird on high, and looked into the church. He froze in place as he met the eyes of someone that was most definitely not Undead.

The grizzly bear leaned against the half-rotted stone walls of the church, looking up at the stairs leading up to something too far out of sight for Nero to see, but it was the bear that held his attention. Dressed in a mix of plate and chain mail, the ursine warrior clearly had the marks of the Way of White to him, ranging from the Talisman that hung from his neck to the way that he held himself. There was that same subtle judgment that marked all the other clerics from the churches back home all but dripping from him, that way of looking at the rest of the world through a veil of pity that could mask anything from sadness to scorn.

With this one, he could see just a hint of the latter, though he didn't know if he was putting that on the other man or if it was genuinely there. But that wasn't the point. The point was that there was another member of the Way of White here, and that meant that there was someone that could judge him for breaking his banishment.

Before he could think to turn around or hide, the grizzly turned his head to the entrance. They locked eyes, and Nero was thankful that the rags of his robes did, at least, cover his chest. At least that kept his Darksign from being seen.

"Ho there," the other cleric said, his voice echoing deep. "I must admit, I did not expect someone else to find this drab and dreary place. From where do you hail, friend?"

"F-from Astora, and the Way of White," Nero said, biting off the stammer. "It has been a long journey." And wasn't that the truth.

The bear nodded, bowing slightly at the waist, though never quite taking his eyes off the rabbit. Nero was sure that it was only due to the danger of the world around them and how hard it could be to feel safe, but at the same time, he feared that he had already been made.

What did they say? How far did they spread the news of banishing me to the Asylum?

That was the question that he didn't have an answer to, and the one that he really needed to figure out, fast. If they didn't know him, then he could show his face, if nothing else. If the church had spread his face, his name, and more through the rest of the faithful, then he would be doomed to be completely invisible for the rest of his life. To defy his banishment -

A shiver ran down his spine as he felt one of those white things go by. Now that they'd bested the demon, he could see them, and he couldn't shake the feeling that they were some sort of ghost. Not unholy, precisely, but not good, either. Or at least, not necessarily so. They were all different, unknown to him, ranging from well-armored paladin figures to great mages and pyromancers. Perhaps some were warriors of the church in other worlds, and perhaps they weren't, but they weren't here, and he shouldn't see them.

The only one that didn't outright scare him was the skunk that he saw ever so briefly. Was it Romund? If it was, it was a healthier, more fleshed-out version of him than he'd seen at the Asylum, and somehow, that was more encouraging.

It took all of a moment for all that to pass through his head, and then he was back in the moment, the grizzly offering his hand.

"I am Petrus of Thorolund. My apologies for startling you. It is good to see that another follower of the Way of White still walks these desolate lands."

"I - thank you. It's a comfort to me, as well."

"Yes, well, the gods offer comfort to all those that follow their ways. Let the light of the gods light your way, and the Flame shall never desert you."

"Indeed," he said, fighting the urge to put his foot in his mouth and start talking about how many debates there were about that particular passage. How the light of the gods was not necessarily something that was emitted from them or their teachings and how it might be something that they owned and used as a spell, or how the Flame may not be the first Flame but something else entirely, or -

He squashed those, stomping his foot hard enough to make him wince. He hissed through clenched teeth, his ears falling flat over the back of his head.

"Goodness, is something the matter?" Petrus asked.

"Just...tired. I - I need to sit down."

"Then do. I am waiting for my companions to arrive, but I welcome your company until then."

The grizzly bear - towering over him by a good foot and a half - was kind enough. Nero nodded, slumping back against the stone wall of the ruined church. A ray of sunshine poured down through the ceiling and lit up his face, and he took some comfort from that, enjoying the little bit of warmth and gentleness that it offered compared to the austere, darkened Asylum. Some things, at the very least, had changed for the better.

He just wished that he had the chance for a trifle more dignity. His legs were all but bare due to the shredded state of his robe, his pink fur running all the way from his bare feet up to his exposed thighs, but he couldn't bring his robe down any further without exposing the Darksign. Nero blushed as he realized just how much skin he was showing, but hoped that the other cleric would understand. Curling his toes and grinding his feet against some of the cleaner, mossier rocks to get rid of some of the dust, he looked up at the cleric once more.

"If you don't mind, could you tell me - sorry." He had to cover his eyes for a moment. The passage of the ghosts, mostly white but with a speckle of red here and there, was disorienting, and he felt almost sick to look at them. "I'm more exhausted than I thought."

"Take your time. It is -"

There was a loud clank slightly up the stairway. Petrus leaned over, shaking his head.

"Another rattle of the wind."

"What's up there?" Nero asked.

"A lift, one that reaches all the way to the Undead Parish overlooking the fortress up above. It is locked from this side, but my companions will be using it to reach me. Hopefully soon, hah."

Companions, yes. He had almost forgotten. Petrus wouldn't be alone forever, which meant that he had to push through the visions of the various ghosts. He saw Romund again, this time with his hands on Petrus's shoulders from behind, and he hoped that was merely a means of serious conversation in whatever world the skunk was in.

"Could you tell me the best way to get to the gods?" Nero asked.

"You - why would you wish to see the gods? You, of all people, should know that it is not allowed for any but those on high to speak with them."

"I - well, that is to say - it was a pilgrimage to come here, you see -"

Deceptions were piling onto deceptions, and Nero could already feel his grip on what he was saying slipping past his ability to follow it. He stumbled, stuttered, and then, it was too late. He lost his grip on his words, and worse, he lost his grip on his robe.

He gasped as Petrus's eyes immediately shifted from warm and curious to cold and stark. The bear stepped back out of reach, one hand going to his waist. Nero immediately held up his hand, shaking his head.

"I'm not - I can't spread it," the rabbit said.

"What are you doing outside an Asylum?" Petrus said.

"I - there was no place to send me."

Another lie. Why was it so easy to lie instead of tell the truth? Well, mostly because it kept him from getting his head bashed in by someone ostensibly of his own order. But at least the lie was more convincing than the last one. Petrus didn't draw his weapon, and that had to mean that he had a chance to keep his head. That was something. That was something.

"I swear, I have no interest in spreading anything. I just - I wanted to take my chances. I came here...I came here to find out what was happening. The Church in Astora allowed it."

Lie on top of lie on top of lie. Gods, he was pathetic. But he was alive. His skin didn't hurt, his body didn't burn with the constant searing heat of the Undead curse, and he was able to talk without feeling like he was going to rip his own throat out.

"Please. Just...pretend that you didn't see me. If it offends the gods, they will strike me down when I see them, if I can ever reach them in the first place. Please. Please."

He was already trying to decide what, if anything, he could do if Petrus decided against letting him have his life. He doubted that he could fight back against someone that was so much bigger and stronger than him. His spells back at the Church had barely advanced past the most basic of healing, and that was something that took a very long time to cast compared to the speed of bringing a weapon down on someone's head. And he doubted that he'd be able to make a dent against the bear's armor. All he could do -

You could make an offer.

Nero blushed as the thought hit him. He remembered the 'offers' that some of the Undead back at the Asylum had made to the lesser demons before the greater ones had come around. Some had fallen to their knees and opened their mouths to others. They were keen, very keen, on doing anything to keep what they had. He'd watched, even been curious -

No, that was not something that would work here. Petrus was a man of the Way of White. The bear would not be tempted by something so base as that.

"Please," Nero said again. "Let me go to the gods."

Let me ask them my questions. Let me see if they can make me what I was supposed to -

The same old desires were popping up again, and he had to force them out of his head to ensure that they didn't show on his face. If he ever, ever let them know what he had thought, what he had done before coming to the Church and the Way of White -

No. They would never know. He'd never let them know. The questions that he had about the theology were bad enough.

Petrus was still hesitating, but he wasn't pulling his weapon free, nor he had pulled his shield from his back or his talisman from his neck. The bear's fingers loosened around the grip of his mace, and he finally shook his head before dropping his hands to his side with a sigh.

"It is against the Way...but if you will leave this place and trouble me no more, then I will look the other way. An Undead such as you, at least, is no Hollow. Swear that you will do no harm to those still living, and I will forget that my eyes ever beheld you," Petrus said.

It was the best that he could get, and something that he was more than willing to promise. Yet, even as he bowed his head and whispered his promise in desperation, he almost regretted it. After the years in the Asylum, to have the company of another - even as a friendly voice - would have been worth so much.

Even as the promise fell from his lips, though, he felt something else. It was almost the passing currents of the various 'ghosts' that he had been seeing, except this one felt...wrong. Instead of just brushing by, passing through, this one felt like someone had opened a door and stepped inside. It sent a prickle under his fur, and he shivered as his ears went up and his little cotton-tail frizzed. The feeling came from up the stairs, and just as it reached its peak, he heard a sound like a metal grate sliding out of place.

"Ah, that should be them," Petrus said. "Early, but their presence is welcome. You...you should go."

"I...don't think that's them," Nero said, the chill in the air growing stronger as he stood up. He pulled his robe a bit tighter to his chest. "We should go. Not just me. We."

"Don't be foolish. This is your chance to leave. Take it before -"

Clank.

Clank.

Clank.

The sound of heavy armor filled the air, and judging from the look on Petrus's face, Nero was suddenly very sure that it wasn't the sound of his companions. Whether the armor was too heavy or there was too little of it, the bear didn't like it. And if Petrus didn't like it, neither did the rabbit.

His immediate thought, cowardly as it was, was to run and find shelter. There were other paths, including one that led through the watery building just adjacent to the space behind the ruins. Or, or he could take the winding path up to the bridge that led to somewhere else. He didn't know where that was, but it wasn't here, not where the sky was getting darker and the air was getting warmer and that sound was getting louder and louder as its source got closer and closer.

But he couldn't. He was alive again, and no matter how much that would cost him to lose, he couldn't just run away. Nero tightened his grip around his robe, huffing and hissing through clenched teeth, his ears folded flat against the back of his head even as those clanking sounds grew louder.

Finally, their source stepped down the stairs. It was a bull, or at least, had been. The bovine's face had been warped, its muzzle covered in strange black scales that ran from the lips and nose back to the cheekbones. Some were still forming, growing out and glowing for a moment as if like the great burning rock beneath the earth before turning solid and dark as the rest of them. The bull's horns pulled back further than they should, curling rather than forming straighter lines.

But it was the mark that stretched from the bull's abs to his pecs that held the attention of the rabbit. Outlined in shimmering black flames was a footprint, the heel ground into the stranger's stomach while the toes fanned between the base of the other man's pecs. The outline was thick and impossible to miss, yet the shape was completely distinct against the bull's brown fur.

It was so striking that Nero didn't notice, at first, that the bull was naked other than a cape over his back and a sword in his hand. Not merely in a loincloth, as some of the Hollows he'd seen had been, but completely naked, a dark shaft hanging down over swollen balls as the bull walked down the steps. The clanks came from the sound of other scales along his thighs, his heels, and elsewhere clicking against each other, and the realization struck him hard enough that he swallowed nervously.

How thick could those scales be to make a sound like that?

Petrus didn't hesitate. With a call for the Way, the cleric charged forward and up the stairs. The mace came out and swung from the side -

CLANK!

With a sound no different from the bull's footsteps save that it was louder, the mace impacted on the bull's scales. The strange intruder turned to the cleric...and smiled.

"The Dark Sole will take your service, bear."

The darkness around the bull's mark shimmered, then burst outwards like a wave of force. Petrus went flying backwards, and the impact spread far enough to rip the robe from Nero's hands. The tattered cloth flew over his shoulders, and he yelped as he was stripped to nothing.

Petrus was on the ground, eyes rolled back, but the bull was staring at him. Nero's face burned as the intruder's eyes dropped, looking down, down, down between his legs...and what lay there.

"Ah, you have secrets of your own."

"You...you have no right," he whispered, trying to cover the lips of his sex. "You were not..."

"You are ashamed. Don't be. That is all the better -"

"Don't! Don't say that it's better."

The rabbit continued to cover himself with one hand, but thrust his talisman forward with the other. His cheeks burned as he remembered what he used to look like: curvy, swishy, big-hipped and big-chested, a breeder rabbit if ever there was one, meant to bring more and more of the next generation in to worship the gods.

But he hadn't wanted that.

He wanted...to be a he.

The pulse of power knocked the bull back a step, but the response from his opponent's black mark sent him flying back against the stone wall behind him. Nero grunted as the air was all but knocked out of him, slumping down against the ground.

"Just wait, little rabbit. You'll understand. The Dark Sole can grant any wish for those that stand beneath it."

Without any idea of what the Dark Sole was, and completely stunned into silence at the bull's appearance and power, Nero could do nothing but stare as the naked warrior stepped forward. He lifted one foot from the ground, briefly showing a brown sole that shimmered with sweat, before it burst into dark fire to match the mark on his torso. The bull stood over Petrus for but a moment before bringing it down.

The crashing blow broke through the bear's armor, and the mark began to burn itself into the bear's stomach. Petrus gasped, his eyes going wide, and the black fire spread, consuming the chain and and plate he wore. As it did, the bear's gasps of fear and shock turned into something more...sensual, something more wanting and needy.

"What...you..." Petrus groaned. "This is...against...ah...ahhhhh..."

"Embrace the Dark Sole...and embrace bliss."

Nero stared as the black fire stripped Petrus to his fur, and as the last of his garments finally faded away, his cock rose. The bear's shaft went from flaccid to throbbing in the space of but a few seconds, and as it did, Petrus...drooled. He no longer spoke, but moaned instead, arching his back and trying to press his cock to the bull's foot.

"This...this..."

"The Dark Sole calls to all those that wish to submit, or ask others to submit," the bull said, pulling his foot away. It left a hissing print of steam and sweat as it touched the stone, almost like the fire burned within him. "If you come with me, if you submit beneath the Dark Sole, it will give you everything you want. It can even finish what you started with yourself."

"Impossible."

"Oh, it is very doable. The darker Flame offers more than you can imagine...and far less painful than the work of a knife."

Nero shivered as the memory of the blade cutting into his chest returned to him. Such a far-off time, but so much of a relief afterward, even if he'd been forced to use all the clerical magic that he had known at the time to repair himself. No more tissue, nothing of the sort. The pink fur hid scars, so many scars -

Stop. He had to stop.

He was on his feet again, and he wasn't sure when that had happened. Petrus was on his knees, stomach burning with the same footprint as was on the bull, and with a few scales starting to creep out from the symbol. He didn't know what those were, but he had a theory. A deep, dark, impossible, heretical theory.

"You...the scales..."

"Yes. They belong to -"

"Dragons."

"A dragon. Yes." The bull nodded, his smile the absolute picture of devotion. "And soon, you will understand the pleasure of -"

"I will not."

"We will show you. It's better. We promise."

The pulse was about to hit again, and this time, it was close enough that he didn't think he'd just get a comparatively mild push-back. Nero dropped to his knees and held his Talisman upward, calling on every ounce of his faith and his power to throw up a barrier.

It almost wasn't enough. The force that blasted against it shook the ground, and he winced as he felt the barrier cracking overhead. The dark fire that fell around him filled the air with a strange scent, thick and heavy and warm with a haze of musk such as he hadn't smelled in some time. Nero groaned, covering his nose with his other hand, even as his head was getting hazy, his mind swimming in the smoky, heavy smell.

"Nnngh...What..."

"It is better not to think. It is better to obey."

"I...can't...I have to..."

Find the Flame.

Talk to the gods.

Learn the truth.

Fix himself.

So many things, and so few of them that made any sense in this haze. He tried to stand up, stepped backward -

And stumbled.

And as he stumbled, as the bull reached for him, he felt someone else falling with him. The world went hazy, and something pulled at his insides, something deep inside just like he remembered happening when he was about to fight the demon again. Just like then, with the same fear, he threw himself at it and let it take him away.

He fell, and hit the ground, but there were hands under his arms supporting him. Nero whipped his head back and found himself staring at Romund, the skunk looking down at him.

"I told you. Beware the darkness," Romund said.

"...What...what was that?"

"I do not know. But they are dangerous. And that is sufficient."

The skunk helped him to his feet, and Nero did his best not to blush worse than he already was. The feeling of being naked in front of someone else - even without an extended audience - was embarrassing enough. If he started thinking about how his sex was on display, and how it was the wrong sex for this body, that would only make it infinitely worse.

He turned around, seeing a hint of a black outline where the bull had been standing, but nothing more than that. No sign of Petrus, no sign of anything else, and even the silhouette of the black bull disappeared shortly afterward. He shivered, rubbing his upper arms.

"Is he...is he going to be there when I go back?" Nero asked.

"Possibly. But it is unlikely."

"Right. Because...because we go back to our own worlds."

"Unless whatever they are touched by spreads, I suppose."

That was not a comforting thought, and he wished that Romund hadn't said anything.

But at least he was safe now, even if the world was quiet, even if there was no sign of the cleric that he had seen taken by the Dark Sole. The rabbit still didn't know what that was, but he doubted that it was anything good if it stripped people if their will and started transforming them that quickly after they came in contact with it. Was it some sorcery, he wondered? Or was that something that he merely hoped it was to downplay everything else that was so very, very, very wrong about it?

He didn't know, but what he did know was that he was still in Romund's world, and he would go back to his own in a very precarious situation if he didn't start running right now. The rabbit shook his head, looking around -

"Here."

The skunk offered him a cloak, one that would have fit the other man's broader shoulders and thicker build a little better than him, but Nero couldn't afford to be picky. Not then, not with everything else at stake. He took it and wrapped it around his shoulders, pulling it tight around the middle to at least imitate a robe, and sighed in relief as he felt like he was properly covered again. The edge of his Darksign showed, but he could live with that. He could.

Romund just looked down at him, the skunk's eyes as cold as his own bared Darksign was hot. He was still almost naked, wearing nothing but a loincloth, but the essence that they'd taken from the demon had restored him. Romund had thickened out in the hips, and it was hard not to see the other 'thickness' in the front of his loincloth, something that promised quite an experience.

Those were most uncleric-ly thoughts, and Nero shook his head.

"I...I should go," he said.

"Yes."

"Where -"

"I suggest that way," the skunk said, pointing down the stairs and around the corner to the bridge. "From what little I saw the other way, there are far worse things past the pool of water."

"How...how much worse?"

"Worse enough that I nearly died."

"...Oh. I - do you -"

"Start running."

"Okay. Thank you. Thank you, for saving me."

"Don't rely on it. It may not be possible next time."

He nodded. For all that he was thankful that Romund had saved him from whatever overpowering force that bull had represented, he was hoping that he could avoid that in the future. The feeling of shifting from one world to another was terrifying, and it was impossible to be entirely sure that he would be able to get back, no matter the fact that it had happened just fine once already. Who was to say that it would always turn out fine? Who was to say that it would always be so convenient?

The rabbit walked down the steps, keeping his hands wrapped around his middle. He glanced down at the fire, tempted to rest there, but he doubted that it was a good idea. There was a pair of white shapes there, both of them pressed tightly together, and he doubted that it was for something clean, something wholesome. Shaking his head, he turned the other way. Past the well, up the hill and toward the bridge. That was his destination.

He started walking, closing his eyes for a moment as he left the shrine behind. The world was already starting to fade slightly, and Nero braced himself for the shift back to the other world.

So many things had gone completely wrong. Not only the curse of the Undead and the Darksign spreading throughout the people of the world, but other things so long before that. The Way of White tried to tell a story of how the world was, and how it had come to be, and how it was supposed to work, but there were holes in it. No matter what the higher-ranking clerics said, there were holes that one could have walked an army through, and without any debate permitted openly about what it actually meant, there was no way to plug the hole through interpreting the text in any way but literally.

And...

And there were other stories, stories that he had always wondered about. Stories about the war with the dragons, and what they offered to those that had been near them. There were few enough stories that still remained about those that had refused to fight on the side of the gods and had shifted to the side of the great, immortal beasts, but he had always heard rumors that they responded with gratitude to any service that they had...gratitude, and with more power than just weapons and armor.

Power...that was said to give others their shape.

The scales that ran up and down both Petrus and the bull made him think of that. If there were dragons still out there, if they were capable of transforming others -

No, no, no. Even if the Dark Sole offered information on the past, even if it could plug those holes, it wasn't worth trading his soul for...

Or his body...

Or...

The world changed, and he let it, falling through the mist until he returned to his own world. He came to an abrupt halt, all but gasping behind a Hollow's back as he left the empty hill behind and returned to his own existence. The Hollows hadn't heard him and stared down at the shrine instead, as if they were waiting for someone to come up from the sunken crater and the bonfire waiting there.

He stared with them, at first at the church in the distance and the shadow that still hung over it, but then at the shrine itself. He imagined what had happened back in Romund's world, and then...

Then he looked at the cloak again.

It was the same one that Petrus had worn when he first met the bear...but there'd been no Petrus to be seen in Romund's world.

A shiver ran down his spine, and he pointedly ignored it. Pulling the cloak tighter around his middle, he began his trek into the bridge and through it. There had to be something safer on the other side, something that might, just might, give him a chance to feel safe and normal and alive without being worried about the state of his soul the whole time.

The End

Summary: And now, Nero. The rabbit cleric gets his introduction, and we get a chance to see the darker souls that wander the world.

Tags: M/M, M/Solo, Trans Male, Rabbit, Bull, Bear, Petrus of Thorolund, Corruption, Magic, Foot Fetish, Barefoot, Nudity, Dark Souls, Series, Parody, Dick, Pussy,