The glowing embers paint the moors in a dreary crimson, as the dying flames dance across my men's blood drenched armor. The dark lord, Aromannon, had foretold of he whom would undo the shadow prophesy, and for two long years I have sought to remove this threat.
Now, Aromannon's oracle saw this destroyer of prophesy, this boy, so the village of Belkin thus rests in ruin, and all who had once inhabited it, lay dead. Every last man, women and child, dead. A smile creeps upon my face as the embers die out, and the cries for mercy leave with the night.
And as day breaks upon the earth, gleaming against my armor, Sevet lets lose a low rumble from her throat. Acknowledging her, I pet her shimmering white scales and spur her into the air. A content sigh escapes my lips as I look upon the scorched village below, and knowing that once again the prophesy is safe, that Lord Aromannon will soon walk among us again. I ride back to the fiery mountains of Zardoff, where the black castle of Rardomar, home to the dark lord's legions, awaits my return.