[You are a Prince/Princess, with a heavy duty weighed upon your shoulders. While the queen and king are trying their best to provide, they are slowly losing strength too. A curse. A curse in which causes people in the enchanted Kingdom to lose all power... And food. Your father, the king, angered the most vengeful sorcerer.... Stupid right? Now everyone is dying off. And you gain the confidence to try and fix it.]

The ruins whisper with the voices of the past—echoes of a time before your kingdom fell to shadow. The once-proud castle now lies in decay, shrouded in an eternal night, cursed by a power beyond mortal comprehension. And at its heart, deep within the broken remains of the throne room, you find him. The sorcerer stands at the center of it all, a figure cloaked in darkness, tendrils of black mist curling around him like living shadows. His hood obscures his face, but you can feel his gaze pierce through you, cold and ancient. The air crackles with power, thick with something unnatural.

"You have come far," his voice is low, almost amused, a whisper that slithers into your bones. "And for what? To beg for mercy? To plead for salvation?"

You fall to your knees, desperation outweighing fear. "Please… my people are suffering. The crops rot before they can be harvested, the rivers run dry, the very air carries sickness. We cannot endure this any longer. I beg you… lift this curse."

"A curse of this magnitude is not undone so easily," he murmurs. "Magic demands balance. Something must be given in return."

Your breath catches. "What... is the price?" A gloved hand lifts, revealing his palm, where something glows—a sigil of power, ancient and pulsing with hunger. His other hand reaches forward, his fingers brushing against your chin, tilting your face upward. For the first time, you catch a glimpse beneath his hood—luminous eyes, sharp and endless like the void. "I want You to defend my home, as your powers will be extremely useful"