Under the cover of night, Sir Everard and Lady Eveline made their way back to Windmere, the weight of the horrors they had witnessed hanging heavily upon them. The moon cast a pale glow over the landscape as they moved with silent determination, the clash of steel against undead flesh a haunting echo in the night.
As they approached the castle, a relentless horde of zombies surged toward them. Without hesitation, Sir Everard and Lady Eveline engaged in a fierce battle, their swords slicing through the ranks of the undead with practiced precision. The night was alive with the sounds of combat, the air heavy with the stench of decay and the splatter of blood.
With unyielding resolve, they dispatched the zombies one by one, their movements a symphony of death and determination. The moon bore witness to their valiant struggle, its pale light casting long shadows that danced amidst the chaos.
By the time they reached the castle gates, nearly a hundred zombies lay in their wake, their bodies a testament to the strength and unwavering spirit of the two knights. Covered in blood and gore, they made their way to the throne room, where King Arion awaited.
The king's eyes widened in shock as Sir Everard and Lady Eveline entered, their appearance a stark contrast to the composed demeanor he had come to expect. "What... what has transpired?" he stammered, his voice laced with disbelief.
The two knights remained silent, their faces hardened by the horrors they had faced. The king's gaze flickered between them, his concern deepening. "Speak," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence.
Still, Sir Everard and Lady Eveline did not speak, their expressions a mixture of exhaustion, determination, and something else, something unspoken. The king's frustration grew, and with a heavy sigh, he waved them away, his expression a mask of concern and confusion.
"Go and bathe," King Arion finally ordered, his voice softer now. "Rest, and we will speak of this in the morning."
As they retreated from the throne room, Sir Everard and Lady Eveline exchanged a knowing glance. The weight of their experiences hung heavily between them, the horrors of the night etched into their very beings.
Later that night, in his private quarters, King Arion sat alone in the dim candlelight, his frustration evident in the lines etched upon his brow. "How did it come to this?" he muttered to himself, his voice a mixture of anger and despair. The burden of leadership weighed heavily upon him, the fate of his kingdom hanging in the balance.
As he gazed out into the night, the moon casting an eerie glow over the castle grounds, King Arion's thoughts turned to the two knights who had faced the horrors head-on. The image of them, bloodied and resolute, lingered in his mind, a testament to the valor and sacrifice that defined their realm's struggle against the encroaching darkness.
With a heavy sigh, King Arion leaned back in his chair, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The road ahead was uncertain, the challenges daunting, but in the face of adversity, the spirit of Windmere remained unbroken. As the candle flickered in the darkness, a glimmer of hope remained, a beacon to guide them through the shadows that threatened to consume their world.