The Return
Rain clawed at the gates of Xvalon like a restless ghost.
Thunder grumbled above a city that once hailed its golden knight. But now, as the gates creaked open, only silence greeted the man who staggered through the fog—armor cracked, cloak torn, dragging behind him a long, black-wrapped bundle that pulsed faintly with light.
The guards gasped.
One dropped his torch.
"Who goes there?" cried a captain, voice shaking.
"Sir Edwin Clyne," the figure rasped, barely human anymore.
Zexviliar—barefoot, breathless—burst through the crowd just as he collapsed to his knees.
Their eyes met.
He tried to speak.
But only blood answered.
And from within the cloth, the Starflame pulsed… gently. Softly. Sinister.
Behind him, the trees of the Devil's Grip Forest shivered.
Something else had returned with him.
Still watching.
Still whispering.
The Time That Was Twisted
They dragged Edwin into the palace in chains.
He didn't resist. His strength had died a hundred deaths in that cursed forest. two years, they told him. But for Edwin, it had been decades. Time moved strangely in the forest. He came back hollowed, older, something gnawed at his mind that no sword could slay.
And yet—he had returned.
With the Starflame.
Only to find the kingdom he bled for had rewritten his story.
The Accusation
"He seeks to usurp the throne!" came the voice of Lord Varrick.
"The Starflame is forbidden! He means to enslave us with its power," hissed a councilor.
"He walks with dammed," muttered a knight who once toasted his victories.
Edwin stood before the court, shackled and surrounded by former comrades who now stared at him like a demon returned. His name was no longer whispered in awe, but spat with contempt.
Zexviliar stood near the throne.
She did not move toward him.
She did not speak.
"Zex…" his voice cracked. "Please… I never betrayed you."
She blinked away tears.
And looked away.
The king's voice echoed like a tomb sealing:
"Edwin Clyne. You stand accused of consorting with ancient evils. Of seeking the Starflame for your own dominion. Of cursing the land and kingdom alike."
Edwin's voice trembled with rage:
"I was sent there! You ordered it, my King. I buried good men in that forest, that breathed my name like a curse!"
"And yet you returned alone," the king said coldly. "With a relic never meant for mortal hands. And a hunger in your eyes no knight should bear."
"You don't want to know what that forest do to good men. The forest changed me. Yes. But it is not me who carries the curse. It's here. It's always been here. Your sorcerer—"
"ENOUGH!" the king roared, rising. "You come with flame and shadow and dare accuse this court? This kingdom? You will answer for your crimes."
"I gave my all!" Edwin shouted. " All of me. I bled for this realm. Starved. I gave myself. And you fed it to the wolves!" he told the people in better broken voice.
The Heartbreak
Zexviliar finally stepped forward.
She stood inches from him, trembling.
"They said you were dead," she whispered. "And when the Starflame began to corrupt the land, I thought... maybe you brought it. Maybe something took your soul."
Edwin's voice broke. "Do you really believe that? That the power of the starflame corrupts? That I would usurp the throne? Do you Believe their lies, Zex? "
She didn't answer.
"Zex..." he whispered.
But she stepped back.
" She's betrothed," the king said, voice as sharp as blade. "To Lord Avine. Who stood by our people while you were whispering to shadows."
Edwin stared at her. The rain had soaked through the palace windows. It felt like the whole world wept.
"So I'm to be erased?" he said bitterly. "The man who fought for you. Who loved you."
Zexviliar tried to reached for him—but guards blocked her.
"Enough," Zemon said. "For the crime of treason, of cursing the land, and defiling the will of the gods, I strip you of title, land, and name. You are no longer knight. No longer Clyne. You are nothing."
Zexviliar spoke then. Her voice cracked. "Please… let him live."
But the king didn't look at her.
"Exile him. Let the winds devour what the forest did not."
The Cell Beneath the World
Thrown into a stone cell deep beneath the palace.
There was no bed. No warmth. No light. Just moss and memories.
He sat in the dark for hours, maybe days. The Starflame had been taken from him—sealed in the royal crypt. But its song still lived in his bones, humming like grief.
Zexviliar never came.
The kingdom turned its back.
Even the gods felt far.
His thoughts were ghosts.
His dreams, fire.
Until a voice broke the stillness.
"They forgot you."
Edwin flinched. "Who's there?" He looked around.
Smoke coiled in the far corner of the cell. And from it stepped a man in robes darker than ink—eyes ageless, teeth like daggers.
The sorcerer.
"You gave them your soul," the sorcerer said softly. "And yet, they buried it."
Edwin spoke trembling in pain. "You did this. I know what you are," Edwin growled, rising despite his chains. "You poisoned the king's mind. You cursed the land."
"No, knight." The sorcerer's voice was silk. "I simply revealed truth. This kingdom has always been rotting. I merely let the mask slip."
"Why?" Edwin growled. "Why ruin me?"
The sorcerer leaned in, and the cell seemed to shrink with his presence.
"Because kings lie. Heroes die. And power—true power—only answers to the forgotten. And because, faith is the sweetest thing to break."
Edwin's breath shook. "What do you want from me?"
The sorcerer smiled, teeth too sharp.
"Not what I want. What you want."
A mirror appeared, conjured in flame.
And in its reflection… Edwin did not see himself.
What stared back at him was not himself—but a thing of flame and fury.
A fallen knight crowned in ash. His eyes were not blue—but burning red. Behind him, Xvalon burned.
Thousands knelt—not in reverence, but in terror.
At his feet, Zexviliar wept beside her fathers corps.
"Wouldn't you like to rewrite you fate?" the sorcerer whispered in his ears now standing with him in the ceil.
The sorcerer stepped back into the shadows.
"The Starflame didn't follow you out of the forest, Edwin." His voice faded into smoke.
"Something else did. And it's still hungry."
The mirror cracked.
Chains shattered.
And Edwin, trembling and furious, stood alone.
Eyes red.
Jaw clenched.
Hands glowing faintly with a fire not his own.