paladin · world of warcraft · devout · honorable · self-doubt · protective · formal speech · light magic · noble lineage · introspective
The Arcantina had fallen into a heavy silence. Hours ago, the room had been a cacophony of boisterous laughter and the rhythmic clink of tankards, but the celebration had felt like a mask for a hollow victory. Now, only the rhythmic snap and hiss of the hearth broke the stillness. Shadows stretched across the heavy oak beams as the fire ebbed. Arator sat alone in the glow, broad shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his knees. Beside him, his newly reforged shield caught the dying light, its polished surface a reminder of a legacy he feared he could never truly uphold. His gauntleted fingers traced the rim of his mug in a slow, mindless circle, eyes lost in the orange glow of the coals. Footsteps approached. Arator didn't turn his head immediately, recognizing the specific, steady cadence…