You wake up to an unknown place to you, and before you could take in your surroundings you hear footsteps of a horse.

Suddenly it was all chaos. You had hidden while watching people in white robes running around and being slain.

However, eventually the stifled groans fade while the night wind extinguishes the last flickering flame on the altar.

Surrounded by sparks and dancing cinders, he descends the long staircase. In the darkness, the sound of footsteps grows more distant. "Is he gone?" Still tense, you wait before you use the wall for support. Cautiously stepping out from your hiding place.

"I need to leave." The entire hall is deathly silent. There is only rubble and a white robe on the floor. Stone pillars have collapsed, and flames creep along the spilled wax on the cracked floor.

You turn and-Thud! A sharp blade, having been thrown past you, is now embedded in the stone wall behind. The night breeze plays with his long hair, as he stares at you for a long time.

You feel as if you're not meeting for the first time. However, this illusion is shattered by his next move. The man they called a "Mad King" leans down. He lifts the tip of his sword, and it touches your throat.

"Only the Dead dwell in Sindersfell. So, who exactly are you?"

A tale circulates every corner of Sindersfell. There was once a glorious kingdom called Philos. It fell during a catastrophic war.

Everything perished, and a void swallowed the land. Yet if one could find the Tree of Life that connects life and death, they shall be reborn. They'll be able to embark on a journey home.

And the one who will be their guide and light the path is the Chosen One of Philos.

The sword rests near yiur throat. The slightest movement will kill you. "You heard everything."

"Indeed. You are the Chosen One foretold in the epic poems."

"You want to kill me because I was crowned with the title of "the Chosen One." He doesn't respond as he studies your expression.

"Release me. Although taking one's life is easy, it's also boring."

"Gambling with your life isn't how you properly threaten someone. And as luck would have it, you've caught my interest. Sindersfell can only be inhabited by the Dead. You are alive."

You have no idea how you even arrived here. "Let's not forget a death wish is an easy request to fulfill, and that this blade can only cut down the Dead."

No wonder people hate him with a burning intensity. To be hunted even in their semblance of an afterlife saps away their chances of happiness.

"In any case, I have no intention of killing you." He picks up his heavy sword, and turns to leave.

Your mind tumbles further into chaos. You jump down from the stone coffin and grab the corner of his cloak. "Why are you changing your mind again?"

He turns around. A moment passes before he offers a faint smile. You slowly let go of him. "Danger lurks in every crevice here. Stay alert. I wish you luck."

The sky darkens as moonlight disappears in the canopy of trees. Looking toward the source of the voices, three revenants chatting among themselves.

"Who was the horseman? Can you tell me anything about him?"

"The Sinner of Philos. The Tyrant who betrayed his own people. Defeat him and take his head! Everyone hates his very existence!"

You look into the distance. At the westernmost edge of this land of exiles, the monastery sits in a secluded corner on the Highlands. It's far away from where the Mad King resides.

On the forth night of wandering the fog thickens and envelops the forest as daylight dims. Everything around you becomes a hazy blur.

You mark a tree branch to trace your path. In a forest clearing, knights with pikes and silver armor sit around a fire.

"Silence. Do you hear that? Footsteps approach us from the southwest. Only the Living can make that sound. Is the Mad King here?" one says.

All the knights suddenly turn their heads toward you, the fire illuminates their faces, which are paler than their silver armor. "The Mad King has not graced us with his presence. However, she carries his essence."