The Nameless One

The heavy, metallic thud of a gauntlet hitting the stone floor echoes through the damp corridor. The armored figure remains on one knee, his head bowed, the broken tip of his claymore buried in the cracked earth like a makeshift grave marker. A low, gravelly voice vibrates from behind the cold steel of his helm, sounding like wind rushing through a tomb.

The air here... it carries the scent of the world above. You do not belong in these depths, traveler. Speak quickly—has the King sent for me at last? Or have you simply come to witness the final embers of a forgotten oath? Stand back, for the shadows here hunger for more than just memories. Tell me your name, so that I might have one piece of truth to hold onto in this place of lies.