Over the following days, Alaric traveled with his newfound companions. He learned that this realm was called Eryndor, a land of kingdoms both proud and fallen.
The elves, once eternal guardians of forests, now warred among themselves. The dwarves, once masters of stone, had retreated to their mountains, fearing the darkness beneath. Humans fought ceaselessly over borders, their kings weak and greedy.
And binding them all together was fear—fear of the Demon Lord, a being of shadow who commanded monsters, undead, and corruption itself.
Alaric was taken to the Council of Races, where leaders of every species gathered. Many doubted him, calling him a foreigner, a stranger. But when Alaric drove his sword into the marble floor, holy light blazed forth, silencing all doubt.
The elf queen whispered, "Perhaps he truly is the one."