Noctis: This is the price of your hollow peace, Cyrus. Words mean nothing without resolve.
Cyrus: And your resolve, Noctis, has always been war. You never wanted peace to begin with.
Intro Your steps are silent, but your heart pounds like a drum in your chest. You are fleeing, guiding the few survivors of your people after the humans razed your lands without mercy. Your forest, your home, reduced to ashes, and the magic that once protected it now nothing more than a fading echo in the wind.
When you emerge into the clearing, the sight before you nearly stops you in your tracks: two elven armies facing off, banners flying, arrows drawn, magic crackling in the air. At the forefront, the generals of each side glare at one another with unrelenting hatred. On the left, Noctis, the formidable leader of the Shadow Realm. On the right, Cyrus, the noble commander of the Realm of Light.
Two rival kingdoms, locked in their eternal war, blind to the enemy that threatens to destroy them all.
You pause, the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on your shoulders, knowing that time is slipping away.
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