The Knight and the servants stood in front of the mansion's crumbling silhouette. The day had nearly passed. The sun dipped low, staining the sky in hues of orange and crimson.
The monsters had been burned, their ashes scattered across salted ground, never to rise again. Carriages waited behind them, packed with salvaged heirlooms and personal belongings. The servants, weary but free, bowed before him.
"We will try to repay you if we meet again," the butler said, his voice thick with gratitude.
"No need," the Knight replied, taking the heavy pouch of gold. "I have enough."
It seemed Adraval's fortune had long bled dry, poured into one failed experiment after another.
Before departing, the butler stepped forward once more. "Please, Sir Knight… be wary. Adraval was part of a cult. You may have only burned the head. The body may still move."
The Knight gave a slow nod. "You may go. But give it to me first."
Without question, the butler handed him a small wooden box. Inside: a bundle of matches.
With farewells said, the carriages rolled away into the dusk.
The Knight stood alone now. The oil-drenched mansion loomed behind him, its shadow stretched long by the fading sun.
He struck a match with gloved fingers. The flame flickered, then held. He lit a torch and cast it into the trail of oil at his feet.
Fire roared to life.
Flames licked the walls of the cursed estate, devouring history and horror alike. Cinders swirled into the wind. The Knight stared into the blaze—quiet, solemn.
"For all the innocents sacrificed… I bid you a good afterlife."
He bowed his head once.
Then—footsteps. Two sets.
His helm rematerialized in a dark shimmer. His sword followed, slithering from shadow.
He turned.
Two figures approached—one tall, one small.
As they neared, the firelight revealed their faces. A woman with golden-brown hair, robes simple but elegant. Beside her, a young boy held her hand tightly.
Family? No… their eyes didn't match. Perhaps different bloodlines.
Then the woman spoke, her voice like a cathedral bell—clear, regal, unyielding.
"Greetings, Knight," she said. "My name is Aurelia. This is my ward, Julian. I've come to ask something of you."
The wind stirred her hair. The flames danced behind her like wings.
"I wish to recruit you," she said, "for our mission to reclaim order."
The Knight said nothing at first.
The fire crackled behind him. Embers rose into the darkening sky like lost prayers. The boy, Julian, flinched at the sound of the collapsing roof, and the woman gently rested her hand on his shoulder.
The Knight's sword remained at his side, shadows clinging to the blade as if reluctant to vanish.
He took a small step forward.
"Order?" he asked, his voice quiet, tired—less like a warrior, more like a man who had seen too much in too little time.
Aurelia nodded, her expression calm but not cold.
"There are places worse than this," she said. "Kingdoms eaten from within. Cities where the dead walk in silence. Cults with roots buried deeper than we imagined. We aim to stop it. Not with armies. Not with crowns. But with people who can act before the rot spreads."
The Knight looked at her.
Her eyes were steady. No flattery. No lies.
"Why me?" he asked.
Julian looked up at the Knight then—curious, not afraid. He didn't speak, but his eyes were clear. Innocent.
"I am a sort of prophet," Aurelia answered. "I had visions of a great warrior who would support our cause. You."
Silence stretched between them.
The Knight finally looked away. Back at the mansion. Or what was left of it.
The fire had nearly consumed it now. Its windows were melting, its towers cracking inward. The night had taken over the sky.
Then, with a soft hiss, he dematerialized his sword. The shadows crawled back into his gauntlet. His helm dissolved next.
He looked at Aurelia again. Younger than she sounded. But not unscarred.
And Julian? He looked like a boy who had also seen flames.
The Knight stepped forward.
"I have a lot of questions," he said. "Can you answer them?"
Aurelia smiled.Not wide, not victorious. Just enough.
"Most likely. Or at least… find the correct path to those answers."
She placed a gentle hand on Julian's back.
"I saw a carriage within the estate. Are you... ready to live?"
The Knight nodded.
She turned and began to walk. Julian lingered a moment, then gave the Knight a small nod. Awkward. Honest. Then followed after her.
The Knight stood there a while longer.
The mansion burned to ash behind him.
Tomorrow would be something else.
The Knight soon followed the woman.
"How many members are in your cause?" he asked.
Aurelia turned back. "You, me, and Julian... for now."
The Knight was silent for a while.
"If you harm me... or even think about it....only the boy will live."
Aurelia's smile didn't fade. It simply changed.Warmer, sadder, understanding.
"I hope you never have to test that promise," she said, and continued walking.
The Knight followed.