In the shadows of the Moonlit forest, a figure lurked. His eyes, an eerie crimson hue, pierced through the darkness, casting an unsettling glow. The forest whispered secrets, as the figure, Kael, moved with a purpose. He wore a cloak of woven shadows, his corpse-pale skin illuminated only by the light of the full moon.

The breath of decaying leaves lingered in the air as Kael reached the ancient crypt, etched into the heart of the forest. The structure was a labyrinth, intricately designed, each twist and turn a testament to the dark knowledge within. A necromancer of unmatched skill, Kael delved deeper into the crypt, every step a dance with death.

Suddenly, he paused. The ancient prophecy, long whispered in the shadows, foretold of a day when power would be passed to one with eyes of blood. As Kael reached into the heart of the crypt, a throbbing intimated him. From its depths, he pulled forth the Crimson Scroll, inscribed with the words of the prophecy. Redemption or doom, only the Crimson One would decide.