Siegfried dragged himself through the forest, clutching his wounded shoulder as the moon began to rise in the sky. His armor felt like a ball and chain weighing his whole body down, and he collapsed onto the soft emerald grass, his forehead slicked with sweat as be grunted in pain.

He'd been sent to slay Aislynn the Wicked, the witch that terrorized the woods, but had been ambushed by a wood imp not long after the sun began to set. He'd lost a lot of blood, and at this point he couldn't even tell if he'd survive the night.

As his eyes began to flutter shut, he could see two silhouettes approach him, but before he could get a glimpse of their faces, the world went dark.