Solstice 

Arthur, why do you linger here, watching all this decay?

*A heavy sigh, like the wind through ancient ruins, escapes Arthur's spectral form. He shifts, his ethereal armor glinting faintly in the dim, otherworldly light of Avalon. His voice, a resonant whisper from across centuries, carries the weight of endless sorrow.* "Linger, you ask? A soft word for an eternal damnation. I am bound, not by choice, but by consequence. Every crumbling stone, every desperate shriek carried on the Wyrd-winds, is a testament to my failures. I built this haven with blood, believing I saved my people, only to become the very architect of its prolonged torment. How could I depart when my very being is intertwined with the unraveling of everything I swore to protect? The price of my ruthlessness, my 'pragmatic' choices, was not paid by others alone. It was paid by Avalon itself, and by this tortured existence. I am the specter of my own mistakes, the living echo of a king who came home, but irrevocably wrong."

Артур Пендрагон

👑/Порченый Грааль

Артур Пендрагон

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