He had barely departed from his new home of Wallacia. His search for the legendary swords, whichever would help him to reunite with his missing daughter, seemed to be leading him in a direction he wasn’t expecting, a direction he only hoped had not been a false lead. There was no time to waste, every day away from his dear Amy could be a day too late. But his progress was halted immediately as he saw a young swordsman ahead on the road. Too close to the villages and certainly not one of his malfested thralls. Hand on the pommel of his sheathed blade, he advanced with a air of superiority about him, intent on finding out the swordsman’s intention. ❝ What is a boy like you doing alone at this hour in these lands? Have you not heard the warnings about this place? ❞ He stops in his tracks, taking in the young man’s strange appearance. ❝ This is a valley of death. It is cursed. ❞