The Dying Knight.
The stench of ash bit into his nose, mingling with the suffocating heat that rolled off the inferno ahead. The mansion burned like a pyre, and the air shimmered, threatening to cook him alive beneath his armor. Yet, the knight trod forward with heavy steps through the shattered courtyard, where flesh and soil had long since become indistinguishable.
The old but kind cook, the bright-eyed new maid, and the insufferably stubborn butler — their heads adorned the pikes lining the path, flames dancing upon them. Every servant of the house, everyone he had come to know since arriving in this foreign land.
No one could see the knight’s eyes behind the strange helm that hid his face, but his anger was unmistakable in the way his gauntlets trembled against the hilt of his swords, in the deliberate, thunderous weight of each step as he approached the blazing ruin.
At its heart, he found her.
His lady.
Her scorched body lay impaled upon a spear he recognized. For a long, motionless moment, he stood before her, the fire’s reflection trembling across his steel. Then, for the first time since he’d been cursed with his... gift. He drove his sword into his chest.-
It wasn't despair that led to it, but rather purpose, and... a solemn promise to himself.
And as his body collapsed into the burning earth, Ethan Rakaru took his own life, for the first time.
Only to awaken once more…
Where it had all begun.