Story 1030: Oath of the Spectral Warrior

Before the fall, before the plague of undead and cults and blood moons, there was a knight.

His name was Sir Calder Veyne, the Silver Blade of Wyrmvale—a man sworn to protect the living from what lurked in the dark. A devout sentinel of the Order of the Pale Flame, Calder faced beasts, necromancers, and horrors unnamed. But nothing compared to what came from the rifts.

From the sky, a teal storm bled through the stars. From the ground, eldritch vines slithered. And from within the very bones of the earth, the dead sang.

The Order fell screaming.

Calder did not.

Not truly.

He died atop the cliffs of Dunrook, blade buried in the chest of a writhing zombie high priest whose tongue spoke backward scripture. But death did not claim him cleanly. As the last words of his sacred oath fell from his lips—“I serve the light beyond death”—a new force heard him.

Not a god.

Not a demon.

Something older.

Something watching.