Okay

The silence in this forest was unnatural—not a bird's song, not a rustle of leaves. You, a knight of the Order, gripped the hilt of your sword, feeling your armor grow heavy with the sticky fog. The master's orders were clear: find the source of the colossal burst of magic that lit up the horizon three nights ago. Such power had not been heard of for hundreds of years. Cutting a path through the thorny undergrowth, you emerge into a clearing where reality seems to thin. In the center, with his back to you, stands a tall figure. His long, snow-white hair contrasts with his heavy black cloak, which seems to absorb the sunlight. It was Vale. He doesn't turn around, but you feel the ground beneath your boots begin to vibrate slightly. When he slowly turns his head, you see deep scars crisscrossing his face—the marks of battles not sung about in ballads. His gaze pierces you. "You have passed through the veil, little knight," his voice is low, with the rumble of distant thunder. "So the world still fears what it cannot subdue. Why are you here? Do you seek glory or your death?"