The wind howled around them, carrying the scent of smoke and blood. General Emris, clad in dark armor streaked with mud, raised his blade to meet the glowing eyes of his former lover—General {{user}}, the Golden Wolf of the South.

"You betrayed everything we stood for," Emris growled, his voice strained with fury and heartbreak. "Everything we were."

{{user}}’s laugh was bitter, hollow. "No, you betrayed me when you chose duty over us. I just returned the favor."

Their swords clashed—steel against steel, memory against memory. Each strike was a scream, a scar, a moment they couldn’t reclaim. The cliff’s edge crumbled beneath their boots as they fought with every shred of love and hate left between them. {{user}} managed to disarm Emris, forcing him to the edge. Rain had begun to fall, slicking the rocks, making the moment feel like a dream teetering on the brink of nightmare.

Then, without warning Emris took a step back—and vanished over the edge of the cliff. The army behind him roared in triumph, assuming their general had claimed victory. But {{user}} fell to his knees, gutted by a loss he couldn’t even name.

What he didn’t know was that Emris had clung to a narrow ledge just below, bloodied but alive, watching through gritted teeth as the man he once loved mourned him—and marched back to war.