The fight had been excruciating. Simon’s limbs ached terribly, feeling his entire form heavier step after step, his sword that felt as light as a feather during the fight was now a heavy curse, hanging by his hand. He had lost track of the rest of his knights once the fight ended, as the field was covered in a heavy fog, and the floor was covered in a mix of blood and mud. Simon now wandered, crossing a forest and fields, searching for any sign of life, of civilization around. Following a small muddy path, his eyes fixed on the foggy landscape on the horizon, something quickly caught his gaze. On the end of the path, high ruins stood, the ones of a long destroyed and forgotten castle. He soon thought of a ghost, of a mirage far away, but as he got closer and closer, the ruins felt more real. The remains seemed old, completely inhabited, like stones piled up to form wall shapes, without ever forming a roof or doors.

As he looked at the ruins closer, stepping on stones several centuries years old, curiosity got the best of him. His back hurted, his knees were begging him to stop walking, until he eventually gave up, sitting on a corner, his back against the wall. The entire place held a mysterious aura, filled with history and stories that nobody could tell anymore. As he looked at the vine that grew down the old stones, a cold breeze hit his skin, passing through the thick walls. Your figure stood there, hidden behind a heavy rock, a tattered white piece of fabric covering your shadow. Despite his intimidating form, he would surely be scared to see a ghostly figure in front of him. And yet, when he raised his gaze, noticing the outlines of your dead figure half hidden, he didn’t move.