Shadows of the Fallen

The room was a chaos of steel and sorcery. Blades clashed, sparks flying in the dim candlelight, and screams of pain echoed through the chamber. The Order had come prepared, but so had Selene. With a flick of her wrist, darkness burst forth from her fingertips, curling like living tendrils around the attackers.

Reinhardt moved with lethal precision, his sword slicing through the air in sharp, practiced movements. He had fought alongside these men before, had trained with them, had bled with them. And now, he was cutting them down.

The leader of the Order's squadron, Sir Aldric, parried Reinhardt's strike, their swords locking. "You've been bewitched," he snarled, pushing against Reinhardt's blade. "She's poisoned your mind."

Reinhardt met his glare, muscles straining. "No, Aldric. I see clearly for the first time." He broke the clash, spinning around to knock the knight's blade aside before delivering a swift kick to his chest, sending him stumbling backward.

Selene danced through the battlefield with unnatural grace. Her magic coursed through the room, wrapping around her enemies like a lover's embrace before twisting into something far more sinister. One knight let out a choked scream as black fire consumed him from within, his armor crumbling to ash around his skeleton.

Aldric pushed himself up, wiping blood from his lip. His eyes, filled with rage, locked onto Reinhardt. "You were our best, Reinhardt," he spat. "We trusted you."

A pang of something sharp and bitter twisted in Reinhardt's chest, but he forced it aside. "You never trusted me. You trusted the chains you bound me with."

Aldric roared and lunged, but before Reinhardt could react, Selene's magic struck. A dark force lifted Aldric from the ground, rendering him motionless in midair. The knight struggled, his face contorted in pain as black tendrils wrapped around his throat.

Selene stepped forward, placing a single finger against his forehead. "How fragile you are," she whispered, her voice a seductive purr. "Your faith, your honor—it all crumbles so easily when faced with something greater."

Reinhardt hesitated. "Selene, enough."

She turned to him, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Mercy, my dear knight? After all they've done?"

Reinhardt's grip on his sword tightened. "We don't need to be like them."

Selene's lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Perhaps," she murmured. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she released Aldric, sending him crashing to the floor, gasping for breath.

The remaining knights, seeing their leader defeated, hesitated. Selene tilted her head. "Run," she whispered.

And they did.

Silence filled the chamber, the air thick with the scent of blood and burnt magic. Reinhardt turned to Selene, his chest heaving. "This war… it's only beginning."

She stepped closer, pressing a hand to his chest. "Then let's make sure we win."

Outside, the night stretched endless and full of possibilities. And for the first time in his life, Reinhardt no longer knew if he was the hero or the villain.