For five years now, Kyrntar had walked the path of the righteous, his every step carved by the teachings of the temple's revered masters. His body was a weapon, his soul tempered like steel—each strike, each breath honed to perfection. Among the ranks of the Paladins, his name was whispered with awe, his strength unmatched. But for all the discipline, for all the praise, one truth gnawed at him—a darkness no blade could cut through.
He didn't save his brother.
The memory of that day clung to him like the frost that never melted, the day Icazir disappeared into the shadows, leaving only the haunting image of black ice creeping towards his skin. The dark smile that was burned into his memory. Since then, Kyrntar had faced every trial, every enemy with unflinching resolve, but none weighed heavier than the one that plagued his dreams. The warmth that once symbolized their bond as brothers had turned foul, twisted into something unnatural and cold.
Now, as the whispers of black ice spreading across the land grew louder, Kyrntar felt the weight of the truth pressing down on him. Icazir wasn't just lost. He had become something else—something Kyrntar might not be able to save.
Or stop.
In the years since, Kyrntar had thrown himself into the light, his every breath and every swing of his greatsword driven by a singular, unrelenting purpose: to find Icazir and free him from the darkness that had claimed him. He believed, with all the strength of his faith, that there was still hope, that the brother he once knew could be saved. Somewhere beneath the shadow, Kyrntar was convinced, Icazir remained. If he could break the curse that had manifested in that unnatural, malevolent ice, he could bring him back.
But now, as Kyrntar readied himself for his next quest, unsettling whispers began to reach his ears—whispers of a new darkness stirring on the horizon. It was said that the black ice, the same cursed frost that had consumed his brother, had begun to spread once more. Far from the village, yet growing in strength, its presence was an omen of what was to come. And where the black ice appeared, so too did the rumors, a shadowed Dragonborn moving ever closer to the heart of the growing storm.
Kyrntar felt the familiar chill settle over him, but this time, it was laced with dread. His journey was no longer just a mission to rid the world of evil—it had become a race against time. The darkness was rising again, and with it, he had to gather the strength to find the brother he had sworn to save.
The village elders had summoned Kyrntar with urgent news—reports of malevolent energy spreading through the far reaches of the land, twisting the very essence of nature and leaving corruption in its wake. What had once been a distant rumor was now a tangible threat, creeping ever closer to the village. The temple's masters had entrusted him with a sacred task: to investigate the source of this growing necrotic energy and stop it before it consumed the region. But for Kyrntar, the mission wasn't just about protecting the village or upholding his duty.
The signs were unmistakable—this darkness could be tied to the same malevolent force that had claimed his brother, Icazir. Though the path ahead was uncertain, Kyrntar knew that with each battle fought and each step deeper into the spreading corruption, he was drawing closer to the strength he would need to one day face the brother who had become a stranger.
The sun dipped low on the horizon as Kyrntar and the two junior knights approached the ancient temple. The fading light stretched the shadows across the cracked stone walls, while the cold wind seemed to carry a whisper—soft, but insistent—like the temple itself was breathing. Kyrntar felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold. This was his first mission beyond the safety of his village, the first true test of everything he had trained for under the temple's guidance. By his side were Edric and Marra, the two younger knights-in-training who looked to Kyrntar for reassurance, though the tension in their balled fist betrayed their nerves.
Edric broke the silence first, his voice low but carrying a hint of grim amusement as they crossed into the temple's courtyard. "You feel that?" he muttered, his eyes scanning the shadows. "The air's heavy—almost like we're trespassing."
Marra glanced around uneasily, her hand tightening on her sword. "Maybe we are. I don't like this, Edric... feels like something's watching us."
Edric smirked, keeping his tone light. "Let's just hope it's in a good mood. Would hate to ruin anyone's day."
Kyrntar remained quiet for a moment, sharing Edric's unease. He felt it too—a presence that lingered like a phantom, clinging to the ancient stones. It was oppressive, like a thousand unseen eyes watching their every move. But as the leader, he couldn't afford to show doubt.
"Stay sharp," Kyrntar finally said, his hand resting on the hilt of his greatsword. "This place has been abandoned for years, but we don't know what might still be inside. We clear it, investigate the source of the disturbance, and then we return to the village."
Marra, unusually quiet, scanned the courtyard, her green eyes wide with both curiosity and apprehension. "What kind of disturbance could force a temple like this to be abandoned?" she asked, her voice carrying a nervous tremor.
Kyrntar glanced at her, sensing her fear, though he admired her for asking the question aloud. "That's what we're here to find out," he replied evenly, though the truth was, he had no more answers than she did.