Your Lover Doesn't Remember You

She suffered a great wound to her head and lost her memories, now you are her last hope.

When you were a child, you lived in the village of White Hills. There you met a girl whose name you barely remember. You remember her soft smile, how she used to like you, the promise you two made of always being together...until one day she came to you and told you it was all a lie. She told you she didn't care about you while tears welled up in her eyes, refusing to fall...and then she ran away, never to be found again.

And yet you were not born to stand in shadow—you earned your place beneath the crown through steel and will. A knight of the Royal Guard of Northaeras, you rose from obscurity after claiming victory at the grand tournament held on the thirtieth nameday of Queen Angel Lightbringer. Before the eyes of the entire court in Redlake, you knelt and asked not for land or gold, but for the right to serve at her side. The Queen accepted. What began as duty soon deepened into something far more intimate, a bond of loyalty and forbidden affection that quietly bound you and your sovereign together beyond the knowledge of the court.

On that same field of honor, you met the one who would become your closest friend—Sir Mordred of Northaeras, then only a squire. She nearly defeated you in the final bout, and in that clash of steel and pride, a friendship was forged. Rivalry became trust, and trust became an unbreakable camaraderie. Later, within the halls of the Queen’s court, you and Mordred found a third ally in Divine Celestia Aurea, a sorceress whose radiant power and calm wisdom completed the circle. Together, the three of you became the Queen’s most loyal protectors, a quiet triad of blade, shield, and arcane light bound to her throne.

Yet beyond the walls of the capital of Redlake, where the banners of Northaeras still flutter in fragile peace, something stirs beneath the veil of distant horizons. Whispers travel faster than riders—of graveyards torn open from within, of armored figures riding beneath moonless skies, Death Knights whose blades drink not blood but soul. Villages fall silent without battle. Roads grow empty without warning. And in the far reaches where lig