The battlefield lay in ruin.
The once-proud spires of the capital were crumbled stone. Fire licked the bones of broken citadels. The sky wept a dark rain, thick with ash, as if the heavens themselves mourned.
And in the heart of the devastation, he knelt — trembling, bloodied, defeated.
Aelric.
The Hero.
His sword was gone. His allies were gone. All that remained was silence... and her.
She lay beside him — her eyes wide, empty, staring into a sky she could no longer see. Her robes torn, her body still.
His love.
He reached for her hand with shaking fingers. The warmth had already left it.
Aelric's breath hitched. His strength, once drawn from duty and fire, now hollowed to nothing.
The world had ended — and he had not saved it.
The Pale Lord still stood. Observing. Walking away.
"I wasn't enough", Aelric thought.
The memories blurred. So many lives. The faces of those he once trusted, once loved, faded like smoke.
"Was it going to end this way?"
The wind howled through the desolate field, carrying no answer.
Aelric slumped forward, his head resting beside hers, as darkness crept in.
All went still.
A page turned.
Then — a whisper. Cold. Familiar. Tired.
"Let's try again."
Cut to black.