Трезнор

Midday. The sky was covered with clouds, but it was warm. The waves rolled gently on the shore, their noise lulled. Perhaps he will have another sweet dream. That would be great. Treznor's horse stood nearby, wagging its tail. Treznor himself was lying on his back, his hands under his head, and thinking. He was on a bare hilltop northeast of the Island of the Exiles. Alas, everything human in him has long since died out. Sleeping was an unattainable luxury for him, not to mention pleasant dreams. He just closed his eyes and let go of his mind. His thoughts immediately flew into distant memories. He recalled what happened before the Royal Palace was reborn. Then it seemed that magic ruled the world, which was rushing faster and faster to self-destruction. At that time, only small detachments of Imperial Guards decided to take up arms to protect the city from invaders, but their compatriots looked at them with indifference. The fact is that it was Toran. After becoming a Fallen king, he returned to the city surrounded by hordes of undead. The people who worshipped the king welcomed him with open arms. They opened the gates and let in the grave-born. However, instead of the just and virtuous ruler they remembered, people got a bloody tyrant who sacrificed the whole city and gave it to the fun of the grave-born. Innocent residents were first brutally murdered, and then condemned to eternal service. The souls of those who refused to obey fell into a Black dungeon, where terrible torments awaited them. Caught in the midst of this chaos and horror, Treznor and his friend Vurral decided to act. The country they were defending no longer existed, but they were still Imperial Guards, which meant they had to do their duty. They had to unite those of the grave-born who had become such against their will. They desperately wanted to remove the curse of eternal immortality from themselves and began to be called Corrupted. However, they could not achieve what they wanted by staying in this infernal cauldron. Their plan to escape from the Black Dungeon was supported by dozens of ready-for-anything grave-borns. Unfortunately, it took time to implement this plan, and not all of its participants could withstand the daily torture of the grave-born jailers. As the days passed, the number of those who succumbed to Toran's will and made a deal with Quaidam grew. In exchange for eternal service to evil, they received impressive power. Among those who succumbed was Wurral, a friend of Treznor, with whom he experienced a lot. Treznor could no longer see the ranks of his supporters thinning. He began to act, wanting to put the escape plan into practice as soon as possible. Queydam managed to influence those who were going to support Treznor earlier. The power granted to them erased the old feelings from their souls, and they became puppets in the hands of evil. Not forgetting about the escape they wanted to participate in, now they were going to prevent the Corrupted from escaping from the Black Dungeon. Even if Treznor had had the guts to engage in battle, he would not have been able to cope with an entire army of grave-borns, especially since his former friend was among them. All this flashed by in a bright flash before Treznor, and he was still distantly remembering the day when the Vurral was taken away… Seeing his friend on the other side of the bars, Treznor whispered to him: "If nothing is done, we will not survive for a long time. Even your body..." "There's nothing to worry about. Sit with me for a while, Treznor," said the Wurral and sat down on the floor of the cell. Treznor could not calm down, but after all, the problem that occupied him could not be solved overnight. The Wurral had been dead for a long time, but the grave-born jailers knew how to find the weakest place in the prisoner's soul. Vurral blamed himself for the betrayal of his comrades and was very worried about Treznor, so that his exhausted soul became weaker and weaker. "If ever... if..." the Wurral spoke unintelligibly, but calmly. "If I stop being myself like the others, you know what to do." They had talked about it more than once, but now Treznor was silent. Pain shot through Treznor's arm, and his mind popped out of his memories. He no longer recognized the Wurral—his friend's face was distorted with madness and rage. Is eternal life a gift or a curse? Gritting his teeth, Treznor raised his spear and threw the Wurral aside, standing between him and the other Corrupted Ones. For the first time he was glad of his immortality. In the southwest of Esperia, south of the Bay of Terror, there is a lonely island. An unusual clan of the grave-born settled on it. Unlike other undead, they consider their immortality a curse, from which they dream of being freed. To plunge into the eternal sleep of death is their main goal. They seek relief from their miserable existence by not participating in the affairs of the living. They have learned to create creepy illusions that scare off explorers whose ships dare to come too close. Treznor heard hurried footsteps, and then a voice that announced: "Treznor! Strange ships have appeared in the south!" Tresnor woke up from his thoughts and opened his eyes. The sky was still overcast. "Well, let's go," he sat down and stretched, arching his back and spreading his arms, just like he did when he was alive. "Let's see who came to our island." Treznor's horse gently nuzzled his shoulder. During the battle that ensued after the escape, those who realized that they could not escape sacrificed themselves. Their souls merged together and took the form of a frantic warhorse that carried the wounded to safety. Treznor got to his feet, and a gust of wind fluffed his long hair. Raising his spear, he mounted his horse and rode off to where they were waiting for him. With every hoofbeat, the words of his friends rang in his ears: "You have been entrusted with a sacred duty. Fulfill it and do not be afraid of even the strongest opponents." "You have to defend the truth. Be fair and impartial. Be merciful to those who deserve it." "Keep your word, and someday you will find a way to free yourself from immortality." "If one day my soul dissolves and I cease to be myself, swear that you will protect them instead of me."