In a crimson-stained cathedral bathed in the light of a dying sun, the knight knelt before the altar, his blade planted firmly in the ground. The lion’s head upon his mantle seemed alive, its snarl echoing the weight of his mission. Petals from a withered rose garden swirled around him, carried by a soft, foreboding wind.

He whispered an oath, his voice trembling but resolute. “For the honor of the crown, the souls of the fallen, and the glory of the realm, I shall rise again.”

Behind him, the creak of armored footsteps drew closer, signaling an enemy who sought to shatter his sacred resolve. The knight rose slowly, his golden hair gleaming like a halo under the fractured light. The world seemed to hold its breath as he turned to face the coming storm, his sword gleaming, ready to strike.