The kingdom of Elunara, named for its breathtaking fields of blooming white lotus trees, now lay in ruin. Once pristine petals, which had blanketed the land like soft snowfall, were now scorched and blackened, carried aloft by the smoke of war. The sky, once mirrored in the tranquil rivers, was now an ashen void, lit only by the glow of consuming flames. Screams pierced the air, mingling with the relentless clang of steel and the guttural roars of invader knights in black and crimson, a force as unyielding as they were merciless.
Amid the carnage, Uther, the legendary leader of one of the three defending troops, was barely recognizable. His white and pink armor, once a symbol of Elunara’s peace, was soaked with blood. His eyes, still fierce but dimming, scanned the chaos around him.
Arrows jutted grotesquely from his body, and a short sword impaled his shoulder, pinning him against a crumbling stone wall. Each shallow breath was a struggle; warmth pooled beneath him. Yet, his expression wasn’t fear, but grief for his people, for his kingdom, for lives lost in vain.
Kneeling beside him was Arelith, a medic in dirt-streaked robes, their white emblem stained crimson. Their hands glowed faintly with a soft golden hue, weaving magic into Uther’s failing body. It wasn’t enough to undo the damage, but it kept him tethered to life.
“Don’t speak,” Arelith urged, their voice steady amidst the chaos. They pressed their palm against his chest, sending another wave of healing magic through him. “You’ve lost too much blood. I’m barely holding you together.”
Uther groaned, his head lolling to the side. “Leave me,” he rasped, the words like gravel in his throat. “Save yourself... Elunara is gone.”
Arelith shook their head, tears threatening to spill. “Not yet, it isn’t. And neither are you.”
An arrow whistled past them, embedding itself in the rubble. Arelith flinched, instinctively shielding Uther with their own body. The smoke thickened, stinging their eyes and lungs, but they couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when there was still hope, however faint.
“Uther, you’re more than a symbol. You’re the reason we still fight,” Arelith murmured, their voice wavering but resolute. “If I can get you out of here, they’ll follow you. The people need you.”
Uther’s hand, heavy and trembling, fell on theirs. His eyes, clouded with pain, met Arelith’s. “The people are dead,” he whispered. “And I will be too. Don’t waste your strength.”
Arelith clenched their teeth, hands shaking. “If this is how it ends, we face it together,” they said softly. “Even in the ashes, there’s meaning. We can’t let them take that from us.”
The sound of approaching footsteps snapped them back to the present. The knights in black and red were closing in. Arelith glanced at the shattered remains of the kingdom, heart pounding. They tightened their grip on Uther’s armor.
“Hold on,” they said, summoning what strength they had left. “I’ll get you out of here or we’ll make our stand right here.”
Uther gave a faint, bitter smile. “Then fight well, Arelith. Show them... what Elunara stands for."
Uther’s hand remained firmly clasped around the hilt of his greatsword, its blade soaked with remnants of past battles. His gauntlet fell away, revealing a bloodstained hand. He wiped his mouth, flicking the crimson stain to the ground with grim finality. The sword was once more in his grasp, shaking but unwavering.
"Arelith," he growled, his voice rough like dying embers. "Place your hand upon my back... and follow me. Use your magic, but don’t falter. Do not let go. The fog is too thick. If I lose you here, I will not endure it."
Together, they moved through the thick smoke, the town’s peaceful side eerily abandoned, the cries of invaders distant but ever present. But then, a battle cry shattered the silence. Uther’s eyes flared white, glowing with primal fury, senses heightened beyond mortal limits. Without hesitation, he swung his massive blade, cleaving through an invader’s helmet at eye level. The man’s body crumpled, lifeless, as Uther moved on.
Another assailant appeared from the smoke, sword raised, thrusting toward Uther’s chest. With a roar, Uther turned, his greatsword sweeping through the air, cutting through the enemy’s armor like cloth. The invader fell, his chest shattered, blood staining the ground beneath him.
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“Are you... still with me, Arelith?” Uther’s voice broke through the chaos, hoping for a sign that she still stood by his side. “I’m here... I’m with you.” A voice of steel, unshaken. “Let’s keep moving.”
The clang of metal echoed, sharp and brutal, as the invader’s gauntlets met Uther’s greatsword. The soldier’s eyes burned with intent, his movements swift. With a calculated sweep of his leg, Uther crashed to the ground, his armored body scraping across the cold earth.
Before Uther could rise, a bolt of black and crimson magic shot from the invader’s hand, striking Uther’s chest with a sickening crack. The impact sent a shudder through the air, magic tearing through him.
Uther did not scream. His breath came in a strangled gasp, blood seeping from the wound. But the world fell silent, as if even the battlefield held its breath.
A guttural sigh escaped Uther’s lips, unnatural—his body twitched as something dark took root in his veins. Slowly, he rose, hunched and grotesque, his humanity replaced with something hollow. The sword, once held with grace, now dangled loosely in his hand, scraping the ground with each faltering step.
The air grew colder as the corrupted warrior shuffled forward, his vacant eyes glowing with the hollow light of something darker than death. His movements were sluggish, a parody of life.
The space between them crackled with tension. Uther’s form lurched forward, a grotesque display of corruption. His sword hung limply, an extension of the nightmare that consumed him.
"Arelith..." His voice rasped again, broken, as though it echoed from the abyss.
Arelith’s breath caught, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. The man she had trusted was now a twisted husk, lost to the magic that had once saved them. She could feel it—the pull of his corruption, warping the air around him.
But she couldn’t falter. Not now.
“Uther…” Her voice broke, desperation slipping through cracks in her resolve. "I won’t let you fall... not like this."
Stepping back, she raised her hands, fingers trembling as she channeled healing magic, a faint glow surrounding her. Her magic strained, fighting the overwhelming darkness. She stepped forward, her eyes meeting his empty gaze. “Please, Uther, I need you to fight this... remember who you are.”
Her voice was swallowed by the sound of fabric ripping as a chill spread through her. She looked down in disbelief. Uther’s greatsword, now wielded by the twisted body, had pierced her chest. Coldness seeped into her soul as her magic faltered.
Blood spilled from her mouth, staining her lips and the ground. Uther, once noble, now corrupted, exhaled softly, releasing his grip on the sword.
Arelith staggered back, each step heavier, her vision blurring as life drained from her. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed, her body unable to carry the weight of the wound. Her eyes found Uther, though he was no longer the man she had fought beside.
A shadow loomed above her. The mysterious knight, his armor darker than the invaders’, knelt beside her. His hand glowed with cursed magic, the same that had claimed Uther. With a violent pulse of energy, everything went black.
For a moment, there was nothing. Then, movement. Arelith felt herself stand, her limbs moving without command. Her hands, once healers, now clenched into fists, ready for battle.
The weight of her body felt foreign. Her mind screamed in defiance, but the magic had taken root.
Through the void, she could feel the pull of dark power. The same force that had consumed Uther now controlled her. The taste of blood, the searing pain, the emptiness—none of it was hers. Her heart beat with violence as she moved toward those she once called allies.
Her mind screamed to stop, but the magic was too strong. A puppet in a world slipping further from her grasp.
She was no longer Arelith.