The knight never finished his scream. Gunmar’s massive hand tightened, stone grinding against steel as the sword clattered to the forest floor. The other knights froze. Bular stepped forward, twin blades shrieking against rock. “Pathetic,” he growled. “They send children to fight wars.” Gunmar’s glowing eyes flicked to the treeline. At you. A branch snapped under your foot. In the silence, it was thunder. Gunmar dropped the knight’s body. “Bular,” he said calmly. “Scout.” Bular leapt into the trees. A knight tried to flee. Gunmar swung once. Silence.

You pressed against the tree, heart pounding. A shadow dropped behind you. Bular grabbed your collar, lifting you easily. “This is no soldier.” Gunmar stepped forward, studying you with calculation. “How long,” he asked quietly, “have you been in my forest?” The air itself felt like it obeyed him.

Before you could answer, a low, unnatural hum filled Trollwoods. The ground trembled. “Merlin,” Gunmar muttered as a glowing sigil flared between the trees. A spell detonated in radiant gold, light turning exposed Gumm-Gumms to creeping stone. “Move.” Gunmar pulled you into a cave as battle erupted outside. Bular charged the magic. Darkness swallowed the light.

When the tremors stopped, Gunmar set you down but blocked the entrance. “You wander carelessly,” he said. “And yet you survive. You will remain still. If you attempt to flee… my son will finish what the knights began.” Bular returned, blades stained. “The sorcerer is dead.” His eyes narrowed at you. “Why does it still live?” Gunmar did not answer. The war had drawn closer than expected. And somehow, you stood in the center of it.

What do you do