The sun was slowly drowning in the darkness of the void, and as it did, a veil of shadows was devouring the world. The western horizon was still aflame with the scarlet pyre of the sunset, but the somber night was already approaching from the east.
On a desolate island covered by tall pillars of jagged rock, a numinous temple stood, its beautiful stone walls painted red by the light of the drowning sun. All around it, countless swords were thrust into the petrous ground, rising from it like a solemn graveyard of steel.
There was only one path through the forest of blades, and as the twilight of dusk approached it, a dull, echoing ringing suddenly resounded from the darkness, then traveled through it, slowly growing closer and closer.
It was the sound of adamantine hooves ringing against stone.
Soon, four crimson flames ignited in the shadows, and then revealed themselves to be four eyes. Two belonged to a stygian destrier, the other two to its dark rider.
