☀️ Arselia and Akonia

If Melesar hadn't thrown away the keys to the slave dungeon, perhaps one of the escaped, emaciated, and tormented survivors would have then witnessed an even stranger and more terrifying sight. Right in the middle of the endless dunes, separated from the reliable walls of Barsin by a falling horizon, a man sat on the ground, half-buried in sand. His black shadow stretched out in all directions, forming a mysterious magical pattern on the parched sandy surface. As it touched his skin, the hot breath of the wind seemed to turn cold, yet he felt neither the heat of the scorching sun nor the dark aura that enveloped his lifeless body. This creature could be mistaken for a decaying mummy, and that wouldn't be far from the truth. Digging out a hand buried up to the elbow, Klin discovers a small, cracked stone in the palm of his hand. Then, almost mechanically, he throws it forward, into the barely discernible, mirror-like mirage of a human shadow. "Catch, Ken," a horribly dead voice says. The stone flies through the mysterious silhouette and disappears. The knight begins to sink into the sandstorm again. It's a pity that in his well-deserved finale, Melesar didn't laugh, didn't shrug his shoulders, as he usually did before. Klin would have liked to hear some phrase from him, like "unlucky," but alas. At least, the mad sorcerer turned out to be a man devoted to his passion and his word, which was something to respect. Klin's foolish suggestion to join their game, of course, couldn't have worked. He didn't have enough charisma even to convince a child. But Melesar, it seems, was truly lonely at heart and craved real, fun company. How many innocent prisoners did he torture without ever finding what he sought? And how much good could his outstanding magical talent have brought? Damned apostle stones. The world is permeated with evil even without them. They twist souls, turn people into monsters. Why does the princess need them? However, he doesn't care about that. And yet... they should be isolated, hidden, walled up at the bottom of the sea. But... if there is someone who could contain this poisonous power, it is only his mistress. Klin listened carefully to his own feelings once more. He wasn't very emotional before, but now every thought, every word, emanated with a cold indifference. What if his thoughts about Naria have also become a lie, forever vanished along with his physical shell, leaving only residual memories? The princess was his air, but he wasn't breathing; water, but he didn't feel thirst; life, but he was already dead. What irony: his last meal was meager canned food, his last woman was a greedy rich woman; his last bed was a tent in the desert. There will be no more philosophical conversations with prominent figures, no more card games with familiar servants. He will no longer see the walls of his native Margel, nor the beautiful face of the princess. He will not return to the Kreider mountains and will not know the happiness of an ordinary mortal. These were Klin's thoughts, but he felt neither sadness, nor sorrow, nor longing. He was a guest in his own body, a puppeteer playing with an ugly figure left over from a play called "life." But then, amidst the emptiness that enveloped his mind, he was relieved to find a bright map of Naria. He will continue this mission until only a runic sword remains of him. And even if that happens, he will break the will of every new owner of the weapon, forcing them to serve Her Highness. If, however, the princess deems him unnecessary, he will, without a shadow of a doubt, step onto the seabed. But if she finds him useful... he will become her most faithful and eternal servant.