The storm raged above as Kael made his way out of the crumbling city. Erud-Nar was no longer safe, its streets overrun by chaos. Shadows twisted into monstrous forms, attacking anything that moved, while the storm tore through buildings like paper. The scroll tucked in Kael's satchel felt like both a lifeline and a curse.
The prophecy's words repeated in his mind: The Cursed shall rise, and the Light shall falter.
If the Cursed Protector existed, Kael would need to find them. The ancient mural had shown the knight's image—a figure in blackened armor, forged in shadow. But where could they be?
The only clue lay in a single name scrawled on the edge of the scroll: Karesh-Thal, a long-abandoned ruin on the edge of the Ashen Wastes. Legends claimed it had been a fortress for exiled warriors, criminals, and those cursed by the gods. If the Protector still existed, Karesh-Thal was where Kael would start.
---
The journey to the Ashen Wastes was grueling. For days, Kael trudged through desolate landscapes—dry riverbeds, cracked earth, and withered forests that whispered in the wind. He carried only the bare essentials: a staff, his satchel, and a dagger he barely knew how to use. The deeper he traveled, the heavier the air grew, thick with unease.
On the fourth night, Kael made camp beneath a cluster of dead trees. He lit a small fire, but its flickering light barely reached beyond the shadows. The storm still lingered on the horizon, a constant reminder of what awaited him.
As he ate a meager portion of dried meat, a strange sound broke the silence—a faint scraping, like metal on stone. Kael froze, his hand instinctively reaching for his staff.
"Who's there?" he called, his voice more confident than he felt.
The only answer was the rustling of the wind.
Kael stood, gripping his staff tightly, and cast a small orb of light into the darkness. The glow revealed nothing at first—just twisted trees and barren ground. But then, he saw it.
A figure stood at the edge of the light, its armor dark and jagged, its face hidden behind a spiked helm. The air around it seemed to warp, heavy with a suffocating presence.
"The Cursed Protector," Kael whispered, his pulse quickening.
The knight stepped forward, its movements slow and deliberate. With each step, the ground seemed to groan beneath its weight.
"Who summons me?" The voice was low, gravelly, and filled with an ancient weariness.
Kael swallowed hard, his instincts screaming at him to run. But he held his ground. "I'm Kael. A mage of Erud-Nar."
The knight tilted its head, the motion oddly animalistic. "A mage," it repeated, as though tasting the word. "You are far from your gilded towers, mage."
Kael straightened his posture, trying to mask his fear. "I've come seeking the Cursed Protector. The prophecy—"
"Prophecy," the knight interrupted, its tone mocking. "You speak of ancient lies. Do you even know what you ask?"
Kael hesitated. "The world is in danger. A shadow is rising—"
"I *am* the shadow," the knight growled, stepping closer. Kael stumbled back, but the knight stopped just short of the firelight. "You speak of prophecies, yet you do not know what they demand."
"Then tell me," Kael urged. "If you're truly the Cursed Protector, you're supposed to stop this! The prophecy says—"
The knight laughed, a sound more like a snarl. "The prophecy says many things, boy. It does not speak of the cost. Do you know why I was cursed?"
Kael shook his head.
The knight's voice dropped, heavy with bitterness. "I was once a man. A warrior. I made a pact to protect my kingdom. In exchange, I gave my soul to the gods. They gave me this." He gestured to his armor, his voice venomous. "An eternity of torment in return for power."
Kael stared at the knight, his fear slowly giving way to resolve. "Then use that power now. Help me stop the Shadow."
The knight fell silent, his helm tilting toward Kael as though studying him. "You are braver than you look, mage. Or perhaps just foolish."
"I'll take either," Kael said, a hint of defiance in his tone.
The knight laughed again, though this time it lacked malice. "Very well. I will accompany you, if only to see where your foolishness leads."
Kael let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "What do I call you?"
The knight hesitated. "My name is long forgotten. Call me what you will."
Kael thought for a moment. "Then I'll call you Tharion. It means 'protector' in the old tongue."
Tharion didn't respond, but Kael thought he saw a faint nod.
As the fire burned lower, Kael felt a strange sense of hope, despite the looming storm. The journey ahead would be perilous, but for the first time, he wasn't alone.