The Rising Fall

Piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore into Aarush's very soul. "I seek the one they call 'The King Slayer'," he rumbled, his deep voice resonating through the stillness of the night. The air grew taut with anticipation as the villagers and knights alike held their breath.

King Slayer, only known as a tall tale. A hero and a figure of fear. The idea that one person could turn an entire kingdom upside down with the wave of his sword. He was a respected idol until his reputation was used in a scandal regarding the death of a well-loved Duke. Now he was blamed for letting wars go on and death sweep the land.

Aarush leaned back in his dingy seat and sighed, his smile was gone as he took a swig from his flask, the fiery liquid burning a path down his throat. "You're not the first to come looking for a legend," he said, his voice dripping with disdain, he glared at the Quaram, "and I'm afraid you'll be leaving disappointed."

The Quaram took a step closer, his movements as fluid as the waters of his homelands. "I am not here for legends," he said, his voice a low hum as he leaned down, talking right into an ear surrounded by bountiful curls "I am here for answers."