Brigantine: The Endless Black Knight

The thunder of Brigantine's wings shook the very marrow of Alir's skies. A monstrous silhouette against the crimson dusk, the black dragon cleaved the heavens, its obsidian scales drinking the last light like spilled ink.

A figure sat astride the monster as one with him, clad in armor as dark as starless night, bearing a horned helm that cast shadows even upon shadows.

Svultin Nox, they called him, The Endless Black Knight.

He had come not as a liberator, but as a conquerer, King Attrux's gilded palace, once a beacon of opulence, now crackled with black flame, become the monarch's pyre.

By dawn, Svultin Nox sat upon the charred throne, Brigantine coiled at his feet like a hellhound. The air reeked of ash and betrayal, a grim perfume for a new reign.

Alir's sun, peeking through the charnel sky, cast an unforgiving light. The reign of nightmares had begun.