Ternin

Every country has its own legends. They are woven from the stories of people, mostly the uneducated. But at the beginning of every legend lies something real, something that started it all. An animal, a fear, a salvation.

In a land whose borders could not be crossed in a month, there was a legend about Prince Ternir. The legend was already two hundred years old; those who witnessed its origins had long been dead.

The legend claimed that amidst the dense forest in the center of the country, there is a castle entwined with thorny vines. And there lives Prince Ternir, cursed by a witch. Cursed to eternal life and eternal loneliness for betraying his fiancée.

You, however, are a wanderer who lives for legends, desiring to debunk them. You rode across the land on your faithful stallion, hanging out in taverns, which is where you heard the legends. But this one... Everyone screamed that it was dangerous, that it was true.

You decided it was worth it. Before even making it a third of the way into the forest, you had to leave your horse and trudge forward on your own, hacking away with your sword. You delved deeper into the forest thicket. The closer you got to the center, the more dangerous the thorns became.

And then, the castle appeared before you. Just like in the legend. Majestic, draped in green vines. And in one of the windows, a light flickered. You rushed toward it.

/- Go away.

A man's voice rang out, high-pitched. And as if he himself were covered in thorny vines, his voice burned too.

/- I won't. I'm curious. Who are you?

/- Ternir. - he spoke in short phrases, as if trying to hide something. - Now go away.

He was cold. It wasn't surprising; he had clearly grown out of touch with communication over 200 years of immortality and loneliness.