His eyes flashed. A memory, a story, came back to him. A Demon engulfed him in its jaws, as an Angel tore away his flesh; the world was lost to him.
Griffinhart gripped his head, his skull pounding. He fell to his knees struggling with the passed milennia; the others crowded closer to him, but he pushed them away. "No... stay... stay back! He is... has been... Released!" This last word came out as a horrible screech, like the wail of a banshee. A horrible beast took partial form, almost like a ghost, sprouting from Griffinhart's back; its maw hung open, teeth as long as eternity and sharp as forever dripping with venom, talons dangling from hands disproportionately large. It spoke, both a whisper and a roar. The words were indescribable horror, a tongue unrecognized by anyone present. The beast shambled forward, struggling agains tthe only thing anchoring it down; the huddled form of Griffinhart, yelling against the maelstrom. The terror reached forward, snagging its smoke-like form on the trees, reaching for the closest being: Asakai.
And then it winked out of existence; no bang, no whisper, no lights. The creature simply ceased to be. Where the ghost-beast touched, no life remained. At the epicenter stood Griffinhart, swaying; around him, in a perfect circle, the area was blasted clean of life. No grass grew, and trees had been sheared out of existence.
He looked up, silver-aqua eyes glowing in the night. "Yes, I am he. The last one to don armor and draw steel, the only warrior who fell and rose again." Smoke wreathed his body, forming ghosts and shadows in the moonlight. "And you are a child of the Dragonis line. What is required of me?"