The blighted lands beyond the Thornwall have claimed another expedition. Lord Cassian’s scouts returned with only three of twelve. They speak of a hollow knight — a suit of armor animated by something dark, standing vigil over the old bridge to the Eastern Reaches.
I’ve been tasked with confronting it. The village elders believe the knight is a remnant of the Old Kingdom, bound to the bridge by a geas that expired centuries ago. The binding should have dissolved, but something is keeping it intact. Dark magic, probably. There’s a shrine to the old gods half a mile upstream — I’m betting the answer lies there.
I leave at dawn. If I don’t return, burn this journal and tell my sister the orchard is hers.
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