"I'm Tristan." He would return to Ray, standing a little straighter and taking on a proud but friendly smile, reaching out to take the young boy's paw in his gauntletted one, "I'm a Knight." Then, Tristan looked to the sword and crossbow before looking back at Ray, adding, "I don't suppose you know how to--"
Before he could finish, however, the Knight would genuinely startle at Spyra shrill yell at him, not expecting such an outburst as that from the wolfess. Tristan looked up at Spyra, straightened himself, and he was just about to address her concerns when a very sudden feeling of dread would come over him, and he knew, right there in an instant, that the Defiler's gaze had come upon him. His blood would run as cold as ice in his veins, his legs would quickly grow weak and exhausted until he dropped to his knees in front of Spyra, and a dark temptation would start to lick at his senses, his throat drying and almost choking the knight as an old but familiar urge tightens around his heart.
"AL-AR-IN." The voice would come to Tristan, a voice he hasn't heard in a very long time, the Knight looking down to the ground, seeing more there than anyone else here could. Whilst everyone else sees just the stone floor of the temple, Tristan would be able to see past that, past this physical world and into the next, the world of the Defiler, a world a dark clouds of black and yellow, that descend into unknown depths, filled with storms and demons, and out of those clouds would rise up a great eye, yellow and red and black, it's gaze squarely fixed upon the Knight.
"WEAK. PATH-ETIC. WORM." The voice would growl, the ground beneath Tristan trembling with ever word, "YOU. CAN-NOT. ESC-APE. ME. AL-AR-IN. YOU. WILL. BE. MINE. AGAIN."
Tristan, knowing he has but moments before the Defiler's dark influence becomes too great for him to resist, closed his eyes and swallowed hard and then recited a prayer, "Divine, show mercy upon your wayward child for he has--" Before Tristan could finish, the Defiler's voice would split through his mind, forcing him quiet, "YOU! DARE! CALL! UPON! HER! POWER! AGAINST! ME!?!" A dark tendril from the clouds below would be launched at Tristan, hitting the ground below him with a earthly boom, the Dark God unable to reach him but the spite in his voice hurt enough, "YOU! BELONG! TO! ME!!!"
But Tristan would find his voice again, determined not to give in to the Defiler, "--earned the gaze of the Defiler. Gift upon me your Light, to banish the darkness of the Defiler's gaze, to free my heart from His grip and wash away His taint with your Light!"
"TRAIT-OR-OUS! WORM!" The Defiler howled, His tendril slamming against the barrier between His world and the mortal plane, but it would not last. Light soon enveloped Tristan, the Divine's power burning away the influence of Her rival, and, in one instant, Tristan would shine like a star in the night and the Defiler would cry out in pain, blinded by the Divine's radiance, the vision below Tristan fading back to mere normal stone again, and the light, as quickly as it came, vanished. Of course, those around would not see the Divine's Light, all they would see is Tristan's fur changing to from his usual black colouring to brilliant white, and, as quickly as it changed, it faded back to his normal colouring again. Tristan would gasp and pant in relief, the Defiler's gaze turned elsewhere, Tristan finding his strength again before rising to his feet, but even without the Defiler's gaze his temptations flared, and his throat ached.
The Knight looked down again, this time to his hand, but the token of the Defiler, the vest of Dragon Egg Shards, had been reduced to mere dust. The Defiler does not forgive, nor forget, and He certainly does not leave His treasures in the hands of those that betray him. And Tristan, seeing the gift he acquired to protect Ray now reduced to black dust, could not be more upset. "I did everything right." Tristan whispered to himself, his voice dry and hoarse, his eyes just staring at the black dust in his gauntletted hand, "How did he find me?"
Tristan hasn't experienced something like this for many years. He has always been careful, using the powers of the Gods sparingly, but something evidently earned the Defiler's gaze. Tristan could not think of what he did wrong, however. He did everything right, everything. Little would he realise that he was not the one who made the mistake, but Spyra did. Meddling with the relics of the Gods earns their gaze, and their wrath.
The Knight would look up at the wolfess, letting his hand drop and the dust fall into the wind, and he would tell her with a cracked voice and watery eyes, "You don't have to worry now. It's gone."
Then, Tristan's attentions would turn as he heard Viktor shouting, about leaving. The Knight would gaze at the Death Knight for a moment, and taking note of the language used. The language of the dragons. Tristan didn't know it, but he could recognise it. Dragons did usually say something in their tongue before he ended their lives. But Tristan was too weak and too shaken from his ordeal to react quickly, merely staring and wondering what just happened.