The cryptic response didn't sit well with the Knights, but Known understood what it meant. There was a certainty in Sabbath's voice, a quiet conviction that resonated deeply.
"Mmhm, I see. So the original plan has been modified?" Krown said after a pause. His gaze lingered on Sabbath, searching for something beneath his composed exterior. "Alright then. Sabbath, right? You may join us."
Sabbath rose, his movements fluid and deliberate. He was taller than Athaan had expected, his presence even more commanding up close. He nodded once, slipping the skewer from the fire and taking a bite as if the offer of company were nothing more than a casual detail.
"Fair enough." he said, his tone unbothered, almost dismissive.
As they settled in for the night, Athaan stared at Sabbath, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. He didn't know what it was about this man, but something told him that their paths had crossed for a reason.
'He's the one.' Athaan thought, the words unbidden and startlingly clear. 'The one to cull the greatest evil. The Bleak Midwinter.'
***
Sunlight poured over the meadow, warm and inviting, casting its brilliance on every petal, every blade of grass. Roses stretched endlessly, their red — vibrant and defiant — mingling with wildflowers that painted the earth in hues of gold and violet. The air brimmed with their perfume…. Sweet, almost suffocating.
At the heart of it all stood a knight, his dark armor catching the sunlight in a somber glow. His figure was both imposing and fragile, the weight of his presence seemingly too much for this serene place to bear. He knelt, gauntleted hands steady yet trembling as he held a single rose. Its crimson petals glowed in the light, impossibly soft against the harsh steel of his grip.
Before him stood a woman, her frame draped in a flowing dress embroidered with intricate patterns of spider lilies and creeping vines . Her shoulders were wrapped in a scarf that fluttered faintly in the breeze. She looked down at him, her face a throbbing elegy.
Her skin held the warmth of sunlit porcelain, faint freckles dancing across her cheeks as if placed by the hands of stars. Her lips were soft, their edges tugged downward in a sorrow that refused to spill into tears. But her eyes — those eyes — bore the weight of every unsaid word, every lost moment. They shimmered, flecked with gold that caught the sun like embers, staring at the knight with a tenderness that was unbearable. Her blonde hair cascading down like a waterfall. But she wasn't without edge, clad in mail and iron she looked even more ravishing.
The rose wavered in his hand as he held it out to her. She reached forward, her fingers brushing the cold steel of his gauntlet. That single touch carried an eternity — fragile, fleeting, and final. She took the rose, pressing it gently to her lips, her breath mingling with its delicate petals.
For a moment, the world seemed to hold its own. The sun's light softened, the breeze stilled, the flowers swayed no more. Her gaze locked with his, and then a single tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. It caught the sunlight, dazzling for a heartbeat before falling to the earth below.
She turned, the rose still in her hand, and began to walk away. Her steps were slow but unrelenting, each one carrying her further from him. The knight remained on his knees, watching as her figure grew smaller, her scarf trailing behind.
His hand fell to his side, empty and static. His armor dulled as the roses around him began to wither, their vibrant red draining to ashen gray. The sunlight dimmed, though the sky remained clear, and the air turned heavy, bereft of its earlier sweetness.
Sabbath woke, the scent of roses still clinging to him. The memory of her face — freckled, golden-eyed, and etched with sorrow — remained vivid, like an image burned into the fabric of his soul. His chest heaved as though he'd carried the weight of the knight's grief.
And yet, he could not place her. She was no one he knew.
She was everyone he had lost.
And all he could do was wake up each day, knowing they never would.
Torment had become his cadence, each breath a haunting refrain. His mind, a maelstrom of thoughts, refused to find quiet. Sleep, his sole solace, proved a cruel mistress, conjuring visions of what he'd lost. Every night, a waking nightmare. And with each dawn, a piercing sorrow: they remained forever lost, while he was forced to rise, and face another day alone.
The camp stirred as the Knights packed their belongings . He didn't have much to prepare, so even as Sabbath rose later than the rest, he would be set no later than them.
"Halt." Aisha barked, her sharp tone breaking his reverie.
"Oh?" He replied, amused.
"My uncle wants to speak with you." She said, gesturing toward Krown.
"Well then, lead the way."
They moved quickly, reaching a closed off part of the glade where Krown stood, bathed in the morning light. Beside him were Kevin and Athaan, their expressions a mix of curiosity and caution.
Before entering, Sabbath and Aisha approached the barrier Kevin had summoned. It shimmered faintly, like heat rising off desert sand. As they passed, the surface crumbled away in silence, curling like parchment in a flame. The opening rippled smooth and precise, closing seamlessly behind them. Its purpose - severing all sound, silencing the world beyond and cutting them off from prying ears.
"Good morning. Sir Krown, I presume?" Sabbath asked, not because he wasn't aware, but simply to kick off the conversation.
"Yes, good morning young lad. Indeed." He continued. "These are Aisha, Kevin, and Athaan." He gestured toward them in turn.
"A pleasure." Sabbath said, inclining his head.
Aisha, her impatience evident, asked, "What information did father send?"
Sabbath conjured a chair in a puff of black feathers, settling into it with disarming ease. "Lord Eilead says the twins should remain with you throughout The Crownfall Conflict."
The second the words left his lips a palpable air of tension pressed against the Knights.
Krown's expression darkened. "I see. It has almost begun. But tell me, what's in it for you? Why would my brother trust you with this information?"
Sabbath's gaze grew distant, his voice quieter. "I get information and a position high enough to carry out my plans. The specifics don't matter, so long as I get everything I need to act."
"Sounds like Eilead. Alright then." Krown muttered, his tone resigned.
"Alright? Uncle, what is going on? Why do we need to stay with you during the Crownfall Conflict?" Aisha asked disconcertingly.
Krown's gaze softened as he turned to her. "You should already know how these wars go. In truth, the reason your father had you join me on this little journey was in relation to this. He sent you to me not just for experience but for protection and preparation. Until the war ends, I'll be the one training and guiding you."
Kevin's voice trembled. "Dear heavens, is anyone going to die?"
Krown's reply was grim. "Many will die, Kevin. It's not just the Succession War, it's so much more. The attack three months ago was just the beginning. Evil is rising across all Four Kingdoms, and this conflict will be its proving ground. There's much to be done."