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Chapter 1: The Awakening of the Abyss
The sun sagged low in the sky, bleeding gold across the dense canopy of the Arcaun Forest. A chill wind stirred the leaves, whispering like ancient spirits holding counsel. Beneath the shadowed boughs, silver-armored soldiers marched cautiously, boots crunching against the underbrush.
They were the Knights of the Imperial Army, sent by King Alaric himself to uncover the truth behind the disappearances haunting the city of Arcaun.
At their head strode Sir Eldhar, a battle-worn knight whose resolve was as unyielding as his steel. At his side walked Lady Azre, the Divine Maiden, revered throughout the kingdom. Her emerald eyes shone with quiet determination, and her long hair caught the last light of day as though haloed by fire.
"Stay alert," Eldhar ordered, his voice steady but edged with unease. "We know nothing of what stalks these woods."
The soldiers tightened their grips on their weapons. Each had heard the tales—the haunted dungeon, the cult whispered as the Trinity of the Abyss. And in those dark whispers lay the name of their dread god: Daath, the Death Lord of the Void.
A missing lumberjack, Garin, had been the latest victim. If the stories were true, his soul—and many others—were meant as offerings to awaken Daath from his eternal slumber.
The forest thinned at last, revealing a ruin gnawed by time. Vines strangled its broken stones, and a yawning black maw gaped where a gate had once stood. A hush fell; even the wind refused to breathe here.
"Garin spoke of a hooded figure," Azre murmured. "A shadow that watches the lost."
"Let us hope he imagined it,"
Eldhar answered, though his eyes betrayed no such hope.
With a motion, he signaled the knights. They formed a protective circle around Azre and stepped into the dungeon.
The air inside was damp and cold. Torches sputtered along the walls, throwing warped silhouettes that writhed like restless phantoms.
The deeper they went, the heavier the atmosphere pressed, until the stone itself seemed to pulse with a slow, malevolent heartbeat.
Then a voice rolled through the chamber, deep and mocking.
"Who dares disturb the slumber of the Abyss?"
Steel rasped free as swords were drawn.
"Show yourself!" Eldhar barked, standing firm.
From the shadows emerged a cloaked figure. Its hood shrouded its face, but eyes burned red beneath, locking onto Azre.
"You seek truth, Divine Maiden,"
it hissed.
"But truth cuts both ways."
Azre's pulse quickened, yet her voice held steady.
"Tell us of the disappearances. What fate claims them?"
The figure's laugh was a rasp of knives.
"The dungeon is a threshold to Daath's domain. The lost are not lost—they are claimed. Every soul feeds the awakening."
"You will not succeed,"
Eldhar growled, sword tightening in his hand.
"Bold words,"
the specter replied.
"But futile. The Trinity grows strong. The forest itself shall bow."
Before blade or prayer could reach it, the figure dissolved into the dark, leaving only its laughter echoing through the stones.
The knights exchanged grim looks. Azre's jaw hardened.
"We must find Garin before it is too late."
They pressed deeper. Walls shifted and groaned, birthing new passages and alcoves. The scent of rot thickened.
Then— A scream.
The knights broke into a run, hearts hammering, until they burst into a chamber drowned in flickering shadows.
A stone altar stood at its center, slick with crimson. Around it, black-robed cultists chanted in a language that curdled the blood. Upon the altar lay the broken form of Garin, his lifeless eyes staring into the void.
"No!"
Azre's cry rang with grief and fury.
Eldhar raised his blade high.
"Knights of the Empire—strike them down!"
Steel met shadow in a storm of battle.
Swords crashed, shields rang, and Azre's divine magic seared the chamber with radiant light. The cultists shrieked, staggering beneath the brilliance.
But the ground trembled. Dark energy bled from the altar, pulsing in time with the chants.
"Daath awakens!"
One acolyte screamed before Eldhar's blade silenced him.
Azre's breath caught as light flared within her soul. She raised her hands, unleashing a torrent of radiance that engulfed the altar. The collision of light and shadow detonated through the chamber. Stone split, cultists were flung screaming, and the darkness itself recoiled.
Through the chaos, a darker presence stirred. From the broken shadows stepped a figure taller than the rest, its crimson gaze burning with unholy hunger.
"You dare defy the Abyss?"
It thundered.
"You are sparks in the dark. Nothing more."
Azre summoned every shred of light within her. The chamber erupted in a blinding flash, swallowing the figure's howl. When vision returned, the cult was gone, the altar shattered, and Garin's body lay silent and still. Eldhar lowered his sword, breath ragged.
"This was only the beginning."
Azre's hand tightened around her staff.
"Then we must end it before Daath's shadow consumes the world."
But in the hollow silence, faint as a dying breath, a whisper lingered—an omen they could not ignore:
"The Abyss stirs… and Daath remembers."
And then, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets of Arcaun.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the distant sound of children playing, a stark contrast to the grim burden the knights carried. The clang of armor echoed as they marched, the weight of their failure heavy on their shoulders.
Among them, Azre felt the sting of guilt gnawing at her heart, each step a reminder of the life they could not save.
Behind her, two young knights, Rowan and Thalia, struggled to keep pace as they bore the lifeless body of Garin, the lumberjack whose cries for help had haunted their dreams. The dungeon they had ventured into was a place of darkness, filled with echoes of despair, and now it had claimed another soul. Azre's heart sank as she recalled the frantic moments of their last encounter, the flicker of hope extinguished too soon.
Eldhar, her father and the leader of their band, sensed her turmoil. He strode up beside her, his voice steady and reassuring.
"It wasn't anyone's fault, Azre. We did what we could. Sometimes, fate is beyond our control." He delivered a firm slap on her armored back, a gesture meant to bolster her spirits.
"But we were supposed to save him!" Azre retorted, her voice rising with frustration. "We failed him, Dad."
Eldhar sighed, his expression softening. "We may not have saved Garin, but we saved others. Remember that. Every life we protect is a victory, even if it doesn't feel like it right now."
He ruffled her hair affectionately, but Azre quickly swatted his hand away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as the other knights glanced back at them.
"Enough! I'm not a child anymore!"
she snapped, her fierce gaze challenging anyone who dared to mock her.
The knights resumed their march, the camaraderie of their shared mission momentarily overshadowed by the weight of loss.
Hours later, they arrived in Arcaun, the town bustling with life. The townsfolk paused to watch the knights, their expressions a mix of curiosity and sorrow as they approached the town chief, a stout man with a weathered face and a heart full of compassion.
Eldhar spoke earnestly, recounting their harrowing tale and the grim fate of Garin.
The chief listened intently, nodding with understanding. "You did what you could, brave knights. We are grateful for your efforts, even in loss. Garin may be gone,
but his spirit will live on in our hearts.
He clasped his hands together, bowing his head in respect.
As the knights prepared to leave, a figure emerged from the crowd—a woman with tear-streaked cheeks and trembling hands. Her eyes, red and puffy, locked onto Azre, and she rushed forward, desperation etched on her face. It was Garin's wife, Elara.
"Please, you brought him back!"
she cried, collapsing into Azre's arms.
The weight of her grief was palpable, and Azre felt her own heart break anew as the woman's sobs echoed in the twilight.
"I'm so sorry," Azre whispered, wrapping her arms around Elara.
"I promise we'll honor him. I'll pray for his soul at the Grand Church."
The words tumbled from her lips, a vow to ensure Garin's spirit found peace.
Elara pulled back, her eyes searching Azre's face for solace.
"Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
"He deserved better. He was a good man."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the town, Azre felt a flicker of resolve ignite within her. She would not let Garin's death be in vain.
She would honor him, not just with prayers, but by continuing to fight for those who could not fight for themselves.
With a heavy heart but a determined spirit, she turned to her fellow knights, who stood silently, their own grief mirrored in their eyes.
"We will carry on," she declared, her voice steady. "For Garin, and for all those who need us."
And as they rode away from Arcaun, the weight of their mission felt a little lighter, the bonds of their brotherhood a little stronger, and the path ahead a little clearer. The adventure was far from over, and Azre was ready to face whatever fate had in store for them next.
Eldhar decided to take the opportunity to head back to the capital of Ragnafiore to report everything that's happen back to the King. As soon as all of the Knights were fully prepared for their journey. Azre and all of them bid their farewell to the town of Arcaun.
"Captain Eldhar!" Rowan, a young knight with tousled hair and eager eyes, rode up beside him, his horse snorting impatiently.
"A while ago, I received news from one of the locals in Arcaun". A group of merchants passed through just before we arrived.
They spoke of bandits—pirates, to be precise—attacking cargo along the road to Ethille. Eldhar's brow furrowed.
"Pirates? How many?"
"Enough to cause trouble," Rowan replied, his voice steady but laced with concern.
"One of the merchants mentioned a leader with a skull tattoo on his forehead. If this is true, we may have a serious problem on our hands."
Eldhar's mind raced. The capital could wait. If these pirates were as dangerous as Rowan suggested, they could disrupt trade and threaten the safety of countless innocents.
"Knights!" he called, gathering the attention of his comrades.
"We're changing our course. We'll deal with these pirates before heading to Ragnafiore."
A murmur of surprise rippled through the group.
Eldhar could see the curiosity in their eyes, but he knew this was the right decision. The safety of the realm came first.