Realm Lord

Arthur was running as fast as possible, his feet practically exploding off the ground with each powerful stride. For the first time in days, genuine hope blazed in his bloodshot eyes. The temple ahead meant protection from the insidious whispers of the roses—and that meant being able to finally, mercifully sleep.

His body was beginning to falter under the strain of constant vigilance. The days had grown impossibly long with his unending battle to not only avoid the roses' mental influence but also fight the bone-deep lethargy that consumed him like a disease. Every step had become a negotiation with his failing body, a promise that rest would come soon if he could just keep moving.

The temple was growing closer with every desperate lunge forward. It was much smaller than the previous one he'd encountered, which confirmed Arthur's suspicion that the first had been the central temple—the largest one in this area. This structure before him was a simple square stone edifice with intricate carvings etched into its weathered surface. Four stone pillars stood sentinel on each side, framing an open archway in the middle that led into darkness within.

The carvings seemed to tell stories of ancient battles, though Arthur couldn't spare the concentration needed to decipher them.

Arthur was approaching fast, ready to blow past the archway and collapse inside the sanctuary, but as he got close, the hopeful smile on his face vanished like morning mist, replaced by a mask of apprehension as he came to an abrupt, crushing stop. His expression twisted with worry as he instinctively summoned his sword, the weapon materializing in his hand with a flash of ethereal light.

'There's something in there. I can sense it.'

Arthur could feel the presence of something lingering inside the temple. His dark sense ability—a power he was still coming to understand—didn't just function at night. If there was a completely dark area anywhere within his sensory radius, he could detect anything inside it with preternatural awareness. It didn't matter how small or still. If someone merely stepped on his shadow during the brightest, sunniest day, he would feel it instantly. So in this small stone temple where only darkness dwelled, he could sense the presence perfectly.

Whatever lurked within was a tainted beast. If he had to guess, probably a Grimhound. He wouldn't be surprised if these creatures made homes out of the abandoned temples to escape whatever—or whoever—had been slaughtering them throughout the Rose Field. The evidence of their deaths had been scattered across his path for days now—corpses killed cleanly by something with terrible strength and precision.

Arthur's hands shook around the grip of his sword, the blade catching the light of the merciless sun overhead. He was scared... so terribly scared. He didn't want to fight anymore, but he didn't have a choice. If he didn't get some sleep soon, he would eventually become consumed by the roses' whispers and die anyway. An impossible choice: face the beast or surrender to the field.

The roses behind him seemed to sense his moment of weakness, their whispers growing louder, more insistent. Turn back, they seemed to say. Rest among us. Let go of your struggles.