Lyara tensed, reaching for her sword. "Jude," she said, her voice edged with unease.
Jude turned, and froze.
Across the battlefield, a figure emerged from the mist. Clad in dark armor, their presence exuded an overwhelming sense of dread. The figure's eyes glowed faintly, and in their hand, they held a massive blade that seemed to drink in the surrounding light.
Jude's breath caught in his throat. He had seen this figure before, in his visions, in the memories shown to him.
The one who had shattered the light.
The figure raised their weapon, pointing it directly at him.
Lyara shifted beside him, gripping her sword tightly. "Tell me this isn't real."
"I don't know," Jude admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
