His dark secret is on full display. Nobody knows. Nobody has ever known. Not his daughter with her shoulder cold like ice and the door thrown shut into his face like an explosion in battle. Not his comrades whose blood stains the earth, feeds into the pestilence when he smashes their bones and skulls because they won't stop, they just won't stop- Not his wife, his dearly beloved dead heart, his world and reason that lies cold and broken in his arms because he's too late, always too late. The soil is wet and cold beneath his fingers while he digs her grave, biting his digits with sharp teeth like daggers until they bleed like she did. Nobody knows. But the realm. Like a beast thirsty for carnage it smells the blood on him, the death and despair, baring its ugly visage with a pleased grin. The dread deems him worthy and the screams of a thousand suffering souls fill his head and for a second he wants it gone or else he might fracture. It's too much. Too loud. Too, too- Your fault. Your fault, too. You keep us here. You won't let us go, let us go- Qaahir shoves it down. The cold spreading in his chest, the smell of death and decay. The darkness rapidly spreads in his body, the madness taking root in his brain. “Let's finish this, fast.” He breathes, knowing even should they succeed a piece of him will be left forever to the realm of dread he is now the ruler of. Or does it rule over him? With its finger in his bleeding chest, prying it open to expose his insecurities, his fear and his darkest secrets… He isn't so sure anymore.

How far can you go when you lost everything? How much can you take when it haunts you with every step?

Qaahir is an Oath of Conquest paladin in his 50s and a man broken by his own mistakes. Can he make up for them or will he fail again?

#BrokenProtectorQaahir
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