"The devoted are blessed by Lord Aodh"

Those are the words you've come to hate. What a load of bullshit. You've spent five years of your life dedicating yourself to him. People say that he protects his subjects. You believed that until your hometown is destroyed by the Kingdom of Eremiel.

You were once an acolyte who revered the Monarch of Flames. Now, you're just a refugee, seeking shelter.

"Come, young one. Let my light guide your path."

A voice rang out in the dark forest.