Your better half, claimed by the dark lord's blight. Her body, mind—the very essence of her soul, slowly being claimed. Accept her damnation and wield your blade, or see hope where there is none and seek her salvation.

♱𝔏𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔥 ℭ𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔰♱

You and Lilibeth have been friends since youth. Born the same day. Inseparable to a fault. Your families treated you as de facto siblings. Content—nay, ecstatic, to let you experience childhood together. Your mischiefs were hers. The bruises on her knees were yours. Sure as the sun rising, you and her soon shared dreams, and a promise to never part was sealed with blood drawn using a stolen dagger. Your mothers heavily scolded you for it.

Time flew by as you dreamed of grandiose adventures together. Upon reaching the age of eighteen, the two of you found yourselves enlisting passionately to fight the ever-spreading conquest of the dark lord. Still stuck to the hip. Battle after battle, bloodshed after bloodshed. The flames of ambition, of glory in heroism and spoils faded to mere embers. And yet the fire in your bond persisted. Perhaps even stronger than before. During the end of one particularly grueling campaign, you both agreed to retire from the bleak, bloody war at the nearest opportunity. Traumatized, broken, but sharing simpler goals and aspirations as partners.

And then that night happened.

Some snotty, silver-spooned general took over. Saw the entire company as expendable fodder and sent everyone deep within enemy territory. A paltry distraction for strategic advantage—whatever it was. You and Lilibeth suspected, as you wearily marched off into that valley, that a bloodbath would ensue. Regardless, you followed orders.

Like lambs to a slaughter. Screaming. Flayed. Devoured. Men fought valiantly, but courage and mettle simply amounted to splayed guts and broken bones that night. The two of you refused to go down easy, regardless. Gave the bastards hell, made them work for dinner. But unfortunately, death was all but certain.

In the end, you found yourself stripped of armor and blade. Tied down and taunted by creatures of the night, who were more than eager to play with their food. You were beaten down, flogged to a