The winds howled through the Irko Mountains as Aeltherion stood over Azrak's fallen body, his chest heaving with the weight of battle. The sacred ground beneath them was scorched and cracked, an echo of the chaos that had erupted during their duel. Yet even in his moment of triumph, the anger that had fueled him for centuries did not dissipate. It only grew sharper, more focused. One knight had fallen, but there were still six left.
With a flick of his wrist, Aeltherion summoned an arcane energy, lifting the Commander's body into the air, ready to turn it into a relic of his vengeance. "The first step is done," he muttered, his voice cold. "But there is much more to be done... much more to reclaim."
Azrak's death marked a significant victory in Aeltherion's journey, but it did not offer the peace he so desperately longed for. He still felt the weight of his old life—a life filled with sacrifice, loss, and betrayal. The knights had stripped everything from him, erasing his name, his memory, and his purpose. Even now, his rebirth wasn't enough to erase the scars, to sever the endless grasp of resentment that clung to him like a shadow.
As Aeltherion prepared to leave the mountain, taking Azrak's body as a token to present to the remaining knights, he felt a sudden surge of unfamiliar energy. The earth beneath his feet trembled as if something or someone had awakened to his presence. It was faint, but it was unmistakable.
Something—or someone—was watching him.