My club disappeared with scarcely a sound—but I knew I still had it at the ready if needed, one of the stranger quirks of Undeath; the coins and flask had similarly faded from visibility, but were as accessible as if they'd been in trouser pocket—and I reached out with my naked hand to the flame.
It didn't burn me. It was actually pleasantly warm. Time seemed to slow as the flame dwindled into my hand, resting snugly on my palm, and I felt the tingling sensation of old memories surging to the surface.
Ashemma, it whispered to me, in a father's warm voice.
My name, I realized. The name I had apparently forgotten in the transition to... my new state. Is that what the flame was? Memory? A piece of myself, that I would've lost forever had I not reclaimed it.
I looked towards the sword-wielding Hollow from before, still locked in his sun-induced reverie.
'And you would've stolen that from me,' I reckoned grimly.
I stalked towards him, heedless of the splashing water. Let him hear me.
The trials and tribulations of Ashemma, Deprived Unkindled, as she seeks to unravel the mysteries of Lothric and remember who she is. (Deprived is an unofficial Dark Souls fan comic.) [WARNING: Partial/Obscured Nudity]