The moon had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the scorched earth surrounding Blackthorn Keep. The battlefield lay in uneasy silence, broken only by the groans of the wounded and the distant, rhythmic march of the approaching force. Ser Edric of Ravenspire stood among the remnants of his men, bloodied but unbowed, his sword still gripped tightly in his hand.
“Edric,” a voice called, hoarse with exhaustion. Captain Loryn, his most trusted officer, staggered toward him, clutching a blood-soaked bandage at his side. “The torches… they’re close now. Do you think they’re friend or foe?”
Edric’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where the line of flickering lights grew brighter with every passing moment. “We’ll find out soon enough,” he said grimly. “Have the men form up. If they’re allies, we’ll greet them. If not…” He trailed off, the weight of the night’s battle evident in his tone.
The soldiers, battered and weary, rallied once more, forming a ragged line at Edric’s command. Shields were raised, spears leveled, and eyes fixed on the approaching force. The tension was palpable, every breath drawn tight with anticipation.
As the torches neared, the figures carrying them became discernible. At their head rode a woman clad in gleaming silver armor, her helm crowned with a plume of crimson feathers. Her banner, held aloft by a squire, bore the sigil of a golden phoenix rising from flames—the crest of Lady Elira of Dawnspire.
Edric’s shoulders sagged with relief, though he did not lower his guard. “Hold your positions,” he commanded as the riders drew closer.
Lady Elira dismounted with practiced grace, her sharp eyes scanning the battlefield before settling on Edric. “Ser Edric of Ravenspire,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “It seems we arrived just in time.”
“That remains to be seen,” Edric replied, stepping forward. “Your arrival is welcome, my lady, but the battle is far from over. Lord Kael’s forces still hold the upper hand, and there is… another.” His voice faltered as he recalled the towering knight with the demonic aura.
Elira’s brow furrowed. “Another?”
Before Edric could elaborate, a chilling laugh echoed across the battlefield, low and resonant, as if the earth itself had joined in mockery. The temperature dropped, frost forming on the edges of weapons and armor. The shadows lengthened unnaturally, and from their depths emerged the knight in blackened armor, his runes glowing brighter than before.
“You should have fled while you had the chance, Edric,” the knight growled, his crimson eyes blazing with malice. He gestured toward the reinforcements. “More lambs to the slaughter. How generous of you to provide.”
Elira stepped forward, her sword already drawn. “Who is this creature?” she demanded.
“A nightmare made flesh,” Edric said, gripping his sword. “And our greatest threat.”
The knight laughed again, the sound grating and unnatural. “Your greatest threat?” he mocked. “You give me too much credit. I am but the harbinger. The true storm has yet to arrive.”
At his words, the ground trembled, and a fissure split the battlefield, fiery light spilling forth. From the chasm emerged grotesque figures—twisted, demonic creatures armed with claws and jagged weapons. Panic rippled through the ranks of soldiers as the monstrous horde advanced.
“Form up!” Edric shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Do not falter!”
Elira joined him, rallying her own troops. “We hold the line here,” she declared. “No matter what comes.”
The battle erupted anew, a desperate struggle against the otherworldly invaders. Edric and Elira fought side by side, their blades flashing as they cut through wave after wave of demonic foes. Yet for every enemy they felled, two more seemed to take its place.
Above the fray, the knight watched, his blade resting casually on his shoulder. “You fight valiantly, Edric,” he called out. “But this is a battle you cannot win. Surrender, and I may yet spare your lives.”
“Never!” Edric roared, his sword cleaving through a demon. “I’ll die before I yield to the likes of you.”
The knight’s eyes narrowed. “So be it.”
He raised his blade, and the runes upon it flared with a blinding light. The air grew heavy, charged with an ominous energy. Edric felt a chill run down his spine as the knight began to chant in a guttural, ancient tongue.
Suddenly, the ground beneath Edric’s feet gave way, and he plunged into darkness. The last thing he saw was Elira’s outstretched hand, her cry of alarm drowned out by the roar of the collapsing earth.
Edric hit the ground hard, the impact driving the breath from his lungs. As he struggled to rise, he realized he was in a cavern, its walls glowing faintly with an unnatural light. The air was thick with the stench of sulfur.
A voice echoed around him, cold and mocking. “Welcome to the abyss, Ser Edric. Here, your true test begins.”
Edric drew his sword, his jaw set in defiance. “If this is the end, I’ll face it standing.”
The laughter returned, louder and more menacing. “Oh, this is far from the end. This is only the beginning.”
Albert Initiative 
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