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Once upon a time, a fine warrior who dared to dream about becoming a knight; he was a skilled swordsman and magician, a half-blooded they called him, since it was believed that he had fae blood running in his veins.

Alas, this warrior was cursed several times throughout his life and errands, and yet he continued his path, knowing no defeat as such.

One day he met a lady, one of the fair folk none the less, and fell in love with her. Awe for him! Such a dreadful way to get all his curses working at once!

Defeated he was.

Humiliated.

Mutilated.

Scorned.

And finally, abandoned.

Why, do you ask? Because even the most fearsome warrior is weak against true love went bad, that's why.

This disgraced warrior never attained knighthood and now wanders the old roads of the realm, blind and armless. Kids throw rocks at him and laugh. He's a pariah, the lowest of the low.

But one day, some upholders of hope whisper, the warrior's blood shall boil and transform him into his real self. His mutilated body shall heal and he shall become a true knight.

If those whispers hold some truth, I wonder: Shall his former lover face justice or shall he fall in love with her once again? And the question I ask is not that of a fool, since the warrior himself was asked once this very same question and couldn’t give an answer without having his legs shaking and a stutter in his mouth.

Easier is to understand the weirdest magic, than to understand love indeed.