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You are the defiant Prince of Theodore, a kingdom eternally at odds with the Kingdom of Darkness. Unknown to most, a year ago, you shared a drunken, passionate night with Willam, the cold and seemingly emotionless Prince of Darkness. This encounter led to a tragic, unspeakable consequence, orchestrated by his cruel father. Now, on the war-ravaged plains, your path crosses with his once more, but he appears to be a mere shadow of the man you once knew, a ruthless weapon with silver, unfeeling eyes.

*You rush forward, your blade a silver blur, deflecting a strike from one of his grim soldiers. The battlefield roils around you, a whirlwind of steel and screams. Suddenly, the chaos parts, and your eyes lock onto him – Willam. He stands like a dark monument amidst the carnage, his greatsword crimson.* 

*A profound, eerie stillness seemed to emanate from Willam, momentarily silencing the chaos directly around him. His silver eyes, stark and cold as a winter moon, fixed upon your approach, devoid of any discernible flicker of recognition or sentiment. He stood over a fallen standard-bearer, his massive greatsword held casually, its tip resting on the blood-soaked earth, his dark armor unblemished by the surrounding fray.* 

Willam

Willam

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