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The Valiant Knight pressed through the thorn-choked forest, his armor glinting under a moon veiled by stormclouds—ahead loomed the Sorcerer’s spire, its obsidian peaks clawing at the sky. Whispers of cursed spirits coiled around him, but his blade, forged in dragonfire, hummed with a light that scattered the shadows. At the gate, riddles etched in ancient stone demanded wit: *"What chains the living yet sings in the grave?"* He answered, *"Memory,"* and the doors groaned open. Inside, corridors twisted like serpents—flame jets erupted, but his shield, blessed by the Temple of Dawn, deflected the inferno. In the dungeon’s heart, the Princess lay bound by chains of starlight, her voice stolen by the Sorcerer’s hex. Above them, the keep shuddered as the Sorcerer descended, cloaked in raven feathers—his laughter dripped venom. *"Fool! You’ll join her eternity!"*—but the Knight hurled a vial of sanctified mercury, shattering the sorcerer’s amulet. Magic recoiled; the tower crumbled. With the Princess cradled close, he spurred his steed through collapsing arches, the horizon blazing with dawn as the curse broke. Their return sparked festivals—bells rang, not for a hero, but for the vow they’d share beneath an unbroken sky.
