The fallen Romanov

Ezra could not believe what he was hearing. He knew that Ramel detested him with all his soul, but he never expected him to join hands with the Lord of Decay.

“You look like you have seen a ghost, brother,” Ramel quipped, his voice dreary and cold.

“You are a Romanov. How could you join the cultists,” Ezra retorted. “The people of Aranor think of you as a hero. You are the knight everyone used to look up to.”

Ramel heaved a long sigh and looked up at the dark sky. “All those praises mean nothing to me. I now bask in the glory of the Lord of Decay. His light has freed me from my human limitations and exalted me to a new level.”

“What about father? Do you think he will accept you into the family after he finds out what you have become?” Ezra asked.

Ramel smiled at this remark. “Which father are you talking about? The one who threw me out of our house? Or is it the weak man who always prefers to bow his head to solve disputes? Perhaps you speak of that man who raised a pathetic orphan a