The strangers inclined their helmeted heads before a single broken lance jutting defiantly toward the heavens, then vanished. Strewn all over the lair were the broken bodies of the brave and the foolish. Fearful yet enraptured, Kyria followed in silence. Through the valley of death she dared-then two radiant strangers clad in shining armor came riding out of the brume, raising a hand in greeting. One night, after the beast had slaked its thirst for carnage, she quietly saddled up her family's last stallion and tracked it. With each dawn came the dread realization that no one would save them least of all their absent lord and his cavalry.īut Kyria did not give up. So fierce and suffocating were the flames from its maw that ash was all that remained of its unfortunate victims. The winged, malicious terror came by cover of night, and the people burned in its wake. Life was harsh, but it was nothing compared to the terrible darkness that swept over the steppes. Their lowborn status availed them little except the livelihood of herders, but the local lord saw in her brothers budding cavalrymen, and conscripted them into his service. I'll ride across Hell itself if it means purging the darkness forever.Ĭhildren of the snow-driven steppes, Kyria and her two elder brothers possessed an intrinsic sense for life on a saddle-an advantage for those who live by the frontiers.
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