Prologue

When the knight stepped onto the clearing, Johann the farmer thought for the first time that night that he and his family might be all right. The group of three sat huddled together at their dwindling campfire, both ten-year-old Aspen and his younger sister Katrin seeking their father's warmth and protection. Their cart horse stood hobbled nearby, the ears flat against its skull, alongside what possessions they had been able to spirit away from their broken cart before night fell.

Johann knew that he should have left these haunted parts long ago in order to keep his children safe, but desperate hope and loyalty to the royal family of Wolfkrone had made him stay. During the day, there was a faint resemblance of order on the roads leading through the Rhinewoods, and Johann had made frequent trips to neighboring kingdoms, bartering for food at the lady's behest and bringing it back in order to keep her soldiers fed during these dark times. Such was the limit of what part he was able to play in the grand scheme of things. But never before had he submitted to the dangers of the open road at night, always ensuring that they had solid walls for succor around them.

This time hadn't supposed to be any different, but the breaking of the old cart's axle had thrown all his carefully laid plans into disarray. By the time he realized he wouldn't be able to fix it on his own, it had been too late to abandon it and continue on foot. So they had fled into the forest, away from the road, bringing what they could and hoping that the nightmares that haunted the kingdom would not be able to find them.

Luckily for them, the knight didn't appear to be one of those nightmares. His armor was well-made and properly maintained, ornamented plate armor over sturdy but rich green fabrics. It was unlikely such a man would turn out to be a bandit, especially in these parts were pickings were so slim that banditry usually only revolved around the truly desperate preying on the slightly less ones. The knight was young, still in his twenties, with blue eyes and a wild mane of blond hair that fell past his shoulders. His expression was sullen, but not possessed by the maddening taint that had turned so many good people into butchers and murderers.

"Welcome to our fire, good sir," Johann greeted the man, forcing a smile. "Please, join us. We don't have much, but what we have, we will be happy to share with you."

The young knight looked at Johann and his children, then turned to cast a half-way glance into the gloom of the forest. It was only then that Johann noticed the scar crossing one of the knight's eyes, as well as the giant sword that was resting upon his back.

"You shouldn't be here. It isn't safe."

Johann merely shrugged, too weary at this point to show just how much he was agreeing with that sentiment. "Our wagon broke down. We were on our way to the capital to deliver some grain. I am Johann, and these two are my kids Aspen and Katrin."

The warrior nodded, and his eyes turned to the children, shivering in the cold, and their young faces all teared up and fearful. "Siegfried," he replied, then went down to one knee. "Don't be scared."

The calmness of his voice almost made it sound simple. It confused the children enough to distract them from their immediate fears, and they looked at the armored knight in wonder, sniveling.

"Who are you?" young Aspen squeezed out. "Are you a knight?"

The swordsman shook his head, and his voice softened. "No, I am not. But my father was, a good and noble man, and by his honor, I mean you no harm."

"The forest does," the boy whispered. "It wants to take us, like it took mother."

Johann felt the familiar stab of pain in his heart that always accompanied the mentioning of his wife. The fact that he had lied to his children about what had happened only made it worse. He told himself that he was acting out of love, to spare his children additional grief. It was easier to think she had been taken from them by some sort of monster than to face that the curse had turned herself into one.

To Johann's surprise, he saw a similar sadness pass over Siegfried's face. There was one who knew loss and suffering, he thought. In some way, he felt it forged a connection between them. Johann had no way of knowing that what he mistook for the grief of the bereaved was in truth the guilt of the murderer.

A sudden noise nearby rocked him back into the present. The wind picked up, rising to an angry howl, mingling with the baleful cawing of ravenous birds. Then he spotted them. Three figures came shambling through the underbrush. They were men, or at least they once had been. Two of them looked like common woodsmen, the other was clad in armor that bore the wolf of Wolfkrone. Once it must have been a beautiful set of plates, but now it was dented and torn, and covered in dirt and gore just like the men were. Their faces were disheveled and unruly, their eyes lit with murderous light, and their sneers as drunken as their clumsy gait. Worn swords and axes rested in their filthy hands.

Johann was lost in terror. He pressed his whimpering children tightly against his body, leaning over them, shielding them with his body. Siegfried stepped into the trio's path. With a resounding metallic rasp, his greatsword slid clear of his back and sang through the air, the edge sending its clear chime out into the darkness. The sound stopped the three cursed warriors dead in their tracks. They looked at Siegfried in confusion, then started to shake with unhinged laughter.

"It's you, it's you!" hissed one of the woodsmen. "The swordbearer returns!"

The knight beside him fell in. "The eye, it isn't with you, but it sees! It knows! Brother no longer, the crown shattered into shards!"

When the third voice joined in, the mad ramblings blurred together into an incoherent mumble. Their voices grew angrier by the second, and with jolts of unnatural activity they moved forward, working themselves into a frenzy. Siegfried remained where he was. He hoisted his blade up high, then lowered it until the crossguard touched his chest. Closing his eyes, he touched his forehead to the sword's edge. His mouth was moving, but no sound came out.

Johann knew that he should do something, that even a warrior such as Siegfried would need help against three enemies at once. But his body wouldn't obey his desperate pleas. All he could think of was the safety of his children, but rather than to lend him courage, his fear for them paralyzed him. All he could do was watch.

What happened next, he would never forget for as long as he lived. Siegfried's battlecry rang out, and suddenly blue light filled the clearing, pure and pristine, swallowing them all. Chimes filled Johann's ears, bright and delicate, like crystal or glass, and all of Johann's fears just fell away. Even before the weapons clashed, he was now certain that he and his children would be all right.