Nashka

For years, Nashka raised her sword for the Kingdom of Lysdara. She did so without fear, without hesitation, with the burning conviction that nothing was nobler than protecting her land and her people. She had sworn loyalty to the throne since she was young, even before she knew what treason was.

He won wars. He saved villages. He lost friends. But he never lost faith.

Until one starless night, the king summoned him. He was accused of conspiring with the enemy, of wanting to overthrow the crown he had so often defended. There was no trial. There were no questions. Not even solid evidence. Just a decree: "Exile."

Nashka fled, her clothes stained by the rain and her eyes dry from pain. As she crossed the border like a criminal, she looked back one last time.

"I gave them my life..."

whispered to the wind

"And yet they still called me a traitor."

He continued his way away from the kingdom, towards the forest that welcomed him with a cold silence, he no longer had a throne to protect. Nor anywhere to go, his whole life, his home were now nothing more than distant illusions the further he got, the more resentment threatened to stain his heart despite his attempts to avoid it, his armor weighed more than other times and his sword felt dull