Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPCMA3705ZE4AQ185Q94M3

Here are three alternate prose sections for your story, each with a distinct tone and style: --- ### **Version 1 (Red – Dramatic & Intense)** <nc-section data-title="The Knight’s Shadow" data-color="red"> The castle loomed before me, its jagged towers clawing at the darkening sky. Thunder’s hooves thundered against the cobblestones as I reined him in near the stables, my heart pounding like a war drum. A figure emerged from the shadows—a knight clad in blackened steel, his face half-hidden beneath a visor etched with scars. “You’re late, squire,” growled Sir Roland, his voice like gravel under a boot. His gauntleted hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the blade whispering against the scabbard as if eager to taste blood. “The Lord Commander does not suffer fools, nor does he tolerate tardiness.” I swallowed hard, my fingers tightening around the reins. “Forgive me, sir. The road was—” “Excuses are for cowards,” he snapped, stepping closer. The scent of iron and sweat clung to him, the stench of a man who had seen too many battles. “You will learn discipline here, or you will die trying.” A cold wind howled through the courtyard, and for the first time, I wondered if I had made a terrible mistake. </nc-section> --- ### **Version 2 (Green – Warm & Welcoming)** <nc-section data-title="A Knight’s Welcome" data-color="green"> The castle stables smelled of hay and leather, a comforting scent after days on the road. I dismounted, patting Thunder’s neck as a stable boy hurried forward to take the reins. Before I could thank him, a deep, rumbling chuckle drew my attention. “Ah, so the rumors are true—a new squire arrives!” A broad-shouldered knight stepped into the golden light of the setting sun, his armor polished but worn, his face creased with a warm smile. “Sir Roland, at your service.” I bowed hastily. “Frederick, sir. I’m honored to train under you.” Sir Roland clapped a hand on my shoulder, nearly knocking the breath from me. “No need for formality yet, lad. You’ll learn soon enough that titles mean little when a dragon’s fire is breathing down your neck.” He winked. “Come, the Lord Commander awaits, and I daresay he’s got a meal fit for a king—or at least a hungry squire.” As we walked toward the great hall, I couldn’t help but grin. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so intimidating after all. </nc-section> --- ### **Version 3 (Blue – Mysterious & Forboding)** <nc-section data-title="The Silent Knight" data-color="blue"> The stables were empty when I arrived, save for the soft nickering of horses in their stalls. Thunder’s ears twitched as I led him inside, the air thick with the scent of damp wood and old secrets. Then I saw him—a knight standing motionless in the shadows, his armor dull, his face unreadable. “Sir Roland?” I ventured. He did not move. Did not speak. The only sound was the distant clang of a blacksmith’s hammer, echoing like a funeral bell. I cleared my throat. “I’m Frederick. The new squire.” Still, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he turned his head, and I saw the faint glow of his eyes beneath his helm—pale, like moonlight on ice. “You should not have come here,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “The Last Dragon does not take kindly to visitors.” A shiver ran down my spine. The castle walls suddenly felt less like a fortress and more like a tomb. </nc-section> ---