The knight stood alone in the heart of the battlefield.
Around him lay the bodies of his friends and allies—silent, broken, lifeless. He was the last one standing.
Searching desperately for a way out, he found none. Still, he fought.
To survive the chaos, his mind drifted elsewhere—to a peaceful memory. Warm sunlight rested on his forehead. Cool water touched his feet. For a moment, the screams and steel faded away.
Then the world shifted.
Through the clash of battle, he saw a figure standing behind the horde—a man, chanting in a language unknown to him. The air trembled. The spell grew heavier, darker.
In a single instant, the entire horde collapsed. Every creature fell into lifeless darkness.
Before the knight could speak, before he could even react, the mysterious man vanished.
Shaken and confused, the knight gathered what little strength he had left and rode toward the kingdom. The king had to know about this power… this threat.
But when he finally reached the king and spoke of the battle, fear replaced reason.
The king ordered him thrown out of the village.
Bleeding and humiliated, the knight stumbled away. His helmet fell to the ground, revealing a young face—no beard, no moustache, only exhaustion and pain. With nowhere else to go, he turned toward the Great Forest and disappeared into its shadows.