A fierce battle erupted. The Black Prince’s sword, forged from obsidian and runes, sang as it clashed with the Covenant’s blades. Lira, though untrained in combat, used her quick mind: she seized a heavy tome and hurled it at a pillar, causing a cascade of stones that crushed several foes.
He raised a hand, and the mist swirled, forming an image in the air: a village ablaze, its people fleeing. “The raids you speak of were not of my doing,” he said. “They are the work of the Crimson Covenant, a sect that thrives in chaos. They wear my colors to sow fear.”
“My duty is not to rule, but to protect,” he said. “Let the people remember that darkness can be a shield, but only when wielded with a pure heart.”