Eternally Regressing Knight, Chapter 1: The Fall of Sirus
The biting wind whipped at Sirus’s surcoat, the icy breath of the mountain echoing the chill in his heart. Below, the chasm yawned, a maw of shadow promising oblivion. He clung to the crumbling precipice, his knuckles white, the weight of his failure pressing down heavier than any dragon’s hoard. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Not for him, Sirus, the Knight of Everbright, the champion of the realm, the… fallen.
He’d faced down wyverns with scales like obsidian, battled necromancers who commanded armies of the dead, even stared into the eyes of a slumbering titan without flinching. Yet, here he was, defeated not by brute force or dark magic, but by… arrogance. The blinding, searing arrogance that had led him to underestimate Malkor, the Shadow Witch.
What happened to Sirus?
Malkor wasn't some brute to be felled by a swift sword blow. She was a weaver of illusions, a mistress of deception. Her power lay not in raw strength, but in manipulating the very fabric of reality. Sirus, blinded by his past victories, had walked straight into her trap, his unwavering belief in his own invincibility his ultimate undoing. He underestimated the subtle poison of her whispers, the insidious creep of her magic, until it was too late.
What was Malkor's plan?
Malkor’s goal wasn't simply to defeat Sirus; it was to break him. To shatter his unwavering confidence, to unravel the very core of his being. She'd used illusions to torment him, to force him to relive his greatest failures, twisting his memories into weapons against him. He’d seen the faces of those he'd failed to save, heard their silent screams echoing in the desolate landscape of his mind. The weight of those imagined failures was crushing.
How did Malkor defeat Sirus?
The final blow wasn’t a physical one. It was a psychological assault. Malkor used a powerful illusion, a perfect recreation of his greatest fear—the loss of everything he held dear—leaving Sirus with no will to fight, no strength to resist. He’d fallen not from a wound, but from despair, from the shattering of his own unshakeable self-belief.
What will happen to Sirus now?
As Sirus peered into the abyss, a chilling whisper brushed against his ears. It wasn’t Malkor’s voice; it was something… else. A low, resonant hum that spoke of ancient power, of endless cycles, and the promise of…regeneration. A chance to begin again, to learn from his mistakes, to rise from the ashes of his defeat. But this time, something felt different. This time, the path ahead wouldn’t be paved with arrogance, but with humility, with a deeper understanding of the shadows that lurked beyond the light of his unwavering faith in his strength. The fall was complete, but perhaps, just perhaps, this was not the end. It was merely...a beginning. A new chapter in the eternally regressing tale of Sirus, the Knight of Everbright. The fall was only the first step in a long and arduous journey back to redemption.
