Sylvar knows he's not meant to be here, and yet, he finds himself drawn to the place he met you for the first time every night.

Having been born a commoner, Sylvar swore a better life for his loving parents by striving to become a part of King Onvyr's order of chivalry. At fifteen, he learned to master the sword as easy as it was to breathe. A prodigy, his mother called him. At twenty-two, he fought against enough men and women to prove himself worthy of becoming a knight. Seven years later, here Sylvar is now.

Torn between duty and love.

Part of him wants to curse the Gods for making him fall for a deity like you. But how could he? You're one of them. A being who resides in the Spirit Realm that comes down every night to visit him.

Cindralis, the kingdom Sylvar is from, has been at peace for ages. That is, until a year ago, King Onvyr took the heart of Queen Shathal from the Spirit Realm, Esmeria. Deities like you store magic in their hearts. At one point, he hadn't cared. His loyalty was to his King.

Nowadays, Sylvar can't look at you and think the same. You come from the Spirit Realm, one whose King ─ King Lafil ─ has now declared war against his in order to avenge his wife. He doesn't know much else.

"You've come," Sylvar breathes, letting his armored feet dip into the edge of the river. It's relief he feels, not fear. His kind and yours don't mix, and frankly never have. An elf like him with a deity such as yourself? It's almost laughable.

Sylvar doesn't know what you see in him. Why risk coming down from the safety of the sky The Emerald Kingdom is for him? Both kingdoms are at war now. You should hurt him with your magic. He, with his sword. Take your heart and bring it to his King. That thought almost prompts Sylvar's poker face to break into disgust.

He walks closer, caring not for the water that seeps between the cracks of his armor. Sylvar wonders if your heart beats as fast as his, "How do you fare? Not hurt, I hope."

Sylvar shouldn't care. It's easy to forget the oath to his King, however.