Knights Apocalyptica

My dearest Lily,

I do miss you.

Conversing with what is left is different. My brief encounters with you since then have been brief. I've had nothing but sorrow since you gave yourself to the church and left this shell.

I wish I understood better than what I do now that I might warn you. We’re all lost lambs, crying into the night to She who looks on above our flock. Only, she isn’t interested in the lambs, for she is the biggest wolf, looking only for another wolf to turn into her plaything and hoping that a wolf may rise among the sheep.

If I had told you that, let you know the Goddess you held in your heart thought that, would you have fallen for the deception like many others?

My love, I don’t blame you. Even now. I’m scared to put a voice to what I know…

The Church is not for the Goddess. I wonder who they serve and what their purpose is. Do we even truly know?

All that swirls in my mind is how I miss you. Would that I could hold you and once more hear your soft laughter.

One day, I hope you find peace. When you do, I’ll burn sage and honor the memory of the Lily that I once knew,

Smoke curled off a pile of logs as a stash of ash, and embers burned brightly below. Erec found comfort in the heat on a crisp and cold night like tonight. But it didn’t smell like a typical fire, and Morgana didn't throw sage onto it every five minutes.

Erec let out a contented sigh and looked upward, taking in the orange sky as it faded to purple.

For their first day of training, it had been… Quite slow. After the warehouse, it was this. He’d expected to be working through the entire night. Boldwick had promised to push them to their limits.

Then again…

Erec looked at Colin. His friend convulsed on the bedroll closest to the fire so Morgana could check on him in the moments between her work.

As she steeped tea over the fire in what looked to be a cauldron, Erec vaguely recalled a picture book in his family home—of a woman much the same, though she had a long nose, a pointed hat, and green skin.

That woman liked to eat children in the book and had died in a fire. Thankfully, no one here was a child, so Erec didn’t feel compelled to push her into the fire.

“Today, you’ve taken your first step on this sojourn of personal growth that you have set for yourselves. Look above and see the moon and how she shines upon us, blessing her with her beauty. Do you feel it? The Chariot is rife in the air, a sign of great things to come.” Dame Morgana said.

“Is Colin going to be alright?” Garin asked, stepping right past their teacher’s nonsense.

“He will be fine. This level of exhaustion is to be expected—after all, he reached deep within to dispel the voices of the old world. It would be best to focus on your inner world, not on him. I suspect, for you all, the first trial has shown you where you stand and given you a sight of how you must grow.”

Where I must grow.

Colin and Garin had looked to him to be the one to get them out of there. After all, shouldn’t it have been him? He was confident that if he called to that silver fire, he could have taken care of the fog, and if it had been him, then Colin would never have pulled out that card that left him in this convulsing mess. In a way, Colin’s current state was his fault.

Then again, hadn’t this been the point of this training? The two of them wouldn’t be able to always rely on him, especially since when he tapped into Fury, he didn’t have the level of control needed to ensure their safety.

Still, I need my power when I need it. There couldn’t be a repeat of what just happened. Were this a real battlefield, and he’d failed to call upon Fury because he was afraid he couldn’t lend aid to his friends.

Erec rubbed it as his eyes and listened to Munchy chitter. The chubby squirrel was on Garin’s shoulder, trying to get him to share a carrot.

Which, of course, Garin placidly delivered from their very limited pack of rations.

After they finished training in the warehouse, Dame Morgana gave them each a bag. Inside were simple camping supplies and food—all the food Dame Morgana said they would get for the next five days—after doing a quick stock, Erec counted eight meals in his… Meaning he had to ration carefully. Garin had to have known that, too, but Munchy’s pudgy little face was too much for the man to resist.

And I’ll end up giving some of my food to Garin. Erec mentally adjusted himself, knowing he couldn’t let his friend go hungry for the sake of a fat squirrel. But we’ll talk about putting that damn squirrel on a small diet this week.

“How long until he’s fine?”

“By tomorrow. This tea will be the catalyst to solidify his changes. Once more, I’ll remind you, do not worry. Turn your attention inward and relax; he is on his path, and you are on yours. This is but the first of your steps and likely the easiest. Tomorrow, something new will be at stake. Boldwick told me he has big plans. And I’m sure you’re all aware that might entail all manner of challenges.”

[There isn’t much you can do to help him, so I’d take her words to heart. Good rest is essential for physical performance, and you did ask for a challenge.] VAL buzzed in Erec’s head.

After a long look at Colin convulsing near the tea, Erec gave in. It was difficult to watch another suffer, and since Colin’s soul was different, it was hard to picture just what he was going through. Ultimately, the expert on these matters wasn’t worried, so he shouldn’t be either.

Erec adjusted himself in his spot, leaning against the warehouse wall behind him. With a yawn, he rested his head in his arms and closed his eyes. Listening in silence for minutes to the sound of the fire crackling in the night.

There was peace in the popping and the slight warmth of the fire that touched him. It let his worries drift away, the blame on himself. It could go into that fire with the rest of the world and burn into the useless ash it was. Today, Colin had stepped up and proved himself a capable ally. Things could only be better for them if Colin managed to wield powers like that on the battlefield.

Today was fine, and tomorrow, Erec would do better.

“How did you control the wolves so easily,” Garin asked, breaking the silence.

“It is quite simple: the stronger you understand the spirits of the earth, and the bigger your connection, the more receptive they will be to your requests. Think. What do you know about wolves?” Dame Morgana answered.

“Only what the stories say. Not exactly a common animal in the wasteland or the caverns below. They have fur, roam in packs, and love to eat meat?”

“That is a fine starting point… But, even if you don’t know the animal, have you considered asking them about themselves or their past? I suspect your gift lends itself to be a bridge of understanding, and if you cross that bridge, it will bring much more utility than you give it credit for. So, let us talk about an example—your companion there—the adorable squirrel. What do you know about him?”

Erec cracked open an eye just in time to see Munchy chewing on his carrot and ignoring Morgana. Why would the little guy care about a thing going on with them? No, the squirrel had a much more important business: eating.

“His favorite healthy food is carrots—his favorite not-so-healthy food is pumpkin pastry, which he manages to get way too much of thanks to Liv. When you scratch him, he likes it when you get behind his ears the most. Also, he hates loud noises, especially when Colin raises his voice to argue. If he had it his way, he’d bask in the afternoon sun all day long.” Garin kept rattling off details, and if Erec didn’t know any better, it seemed that Munchy was nodding to each of them.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Morgana smiled, listening even while she raised a mesh from her teapot. On the mesh was a mishmash of steeped plants that Erec could no longer identify, which she tossed into the blazing fire.

Throwing wet stuff on fire had predictable results: a rush of smoke plummeted outward, accompanied by a flurry of peculiar smells that made Erec reel.

The smoke flew out from the fire, but it didn’t disperse into the world around them. Instead, it worked outward in a stream, circling the group as more of it came free from the fire.

[Now that is not natural.] VAL warned.

Erec blinked, and Morgana was pouring her tea into three earthen mugs that had not been there a second before. Each of which looked to have been burped up by the earth itself.

We’re in a ritual.

Erec snapped his attention to Colin—all the while, Garin continued to rattle off facts about Munchy, oblivious to the change in the atmosphere around them—his friend had stopped convulsing, and Colin’s eyes had opened, glazed, but awake for the first time.

Though he trusted Morgana, Erec couldn’t help his hackles rising at the magic. It never sat right to walk into magic. Maybe it was his lack of knowledge, and it wasn’t as if this type of magic was anywhere in his grasp to understand. No one in the Kingdom would get what was happening here since this kind of magic wasn’t the type anyone used except Dame Morgana.

“Ah, my disciple. You know so much of your companion, Munchy. That bond has formed strong, nurtured by time, love, and loyalty. It’s not difficult to imagine that were you to request it, he would do any task—the two of you are linked. You understand one another. And those connections for people like us are powerful indeed. Think again of the name of your Talent, Animal Friend. Two simple words, but with such depth,” Dame Morgana smirked, ending Garin’s chatter.

She started clockwise, filling the earthen mugs with dark amber tea.

As the liquid poured, Erec felt his heart calm and his head numb. Colin steadily sat up, staring directly at Morgana.

This, too, was part of the ritual.

Garin didn’t respond to Dame Morgana. No, he couldn’t have. Erec didn’t think he could work his tongue if he wanted to; silence lingered over them. Anticipation as Dame Morgana floated to each—handing them a mug.

When the clay mug hit his hands, Erec locked his eyes on the liquid below, seeing the reflection of the countless stars above. It seemed a portal to a different world. Moments slipped by, and time lost meaning as he stared into its perfect surface.

“Once more, we shall cross from the outer world to the inner with one another; this time, I encourage you. Think. Process. Absorb. What makes you, you? How does the world shape that image? How do we shape the world with whom we are? Both inner and outer, they must be in alignment to have power over this reality. Consider who you want to be, and the impact of who you were will affect this world once you’ve moved on to others. To know yourself is Strength, and to catch a glimpse of that is my gift to all three of you, my promising disciples.” Dame Morgana raised a glance, finally tearing Erec away from his own to see her wide grin.

He found his cup rising, as did Garin and Colin’s.

Then, she drank, and so did they.

When the cup touched his lip, it felt wet as if the clay of which it was made had never set or dried.

The warm liquid inside didn’t taste much different from mud and dirt, but it went down his throat without protest. And from where it touched his throat, it began to burn. Not an unpleasant burn, though. No pain came from the sensation; all he felt was the heat and fire, which, to him, was a comfort like the sun’s rays whisking sweat from his skin or the embrace of Enide.

Erec sank to the ground, his eyes turned skyward to the stars above.

Their brightness grew, going from little dots in the sky to massive glowing giants, pushing out the black canvas around them into nothing but light.

Like that, once more, Erec slipped from the world. As did the rest of them, held tightly by the ritual.

— - ☢ - — - ☼ - — - ☢ - —

Colin awoke to find himself on the Steel Curtain. Long since he’d been a child, he’d loved this place. All who saw the giant wall surrounding the Kingdom had to have felt a sense of awe at the scale and promise of protection it offered. This wall was unbroken by monsters. It kept them safe and let them return to the sun.

Only one threat threatened this wall—the Rot behemoth, which had been slain before even reaching the wall by the Unbroken General.

His oh-so-humble father.

To Colin, much like any kid who saw it, the Steel Curtain was their safety, a symbol of their power to stand up against a world that wanted to eat them alive.

Colin rubbed his hands together as he moved to the edge and looked towards the Kingdom below.

So high.

Here, he saw the world for what it was from the spot he deserved to be. Freedom and view to see all those below; farmers toiled in their fields, sweat beating their brow. Wagons moved along the road, moving valuable construction materials to put up new homes. Smoke rose from the chimneys of the buildings… It was a cold day, Colin realized with a shiver as a particularly gusty bit of wind hit him.

That had to be his least favorite thing about this height. The cold was a joke.

Still, he belonged here. They all did. The feeling he’d first realized when he’d begged his father for a trip to the wall as a child was still ever present, even now.

Humankind deserved to be on the surface. This was their birthright, as was his birthright to look out upon them from above as a swath of humanity toiled to accomplish their jobs.

Yet, it was different now.

He’d thought as a child that he was better than them. This pleasure of watching them work was what he deserved, and though he was better than them, his understanding of what it meant to be up here changed. Even now, he scanned the farms, wondering if they had the resources to finish the vital task. It was getting cold, after all, and so many had begun to depend on the additional crops grown above. If they couldn’t do the job, he would need to call upon more workers from below to help with the harvest.

Growing more crops on the surface helped ease the vast energy strain below. The truth was that their current model of life was unsustainable. Few nobles and virtually no peasants knew that the move to expand to the surface had been one of necessity.

The Kingdom had grown and was rapidly approaching the limits of what could be supported by the power they had below. Within the decade, they had to move so many above to adapt.

Colin would make sure they did, that none went hungry in the transition to life as it should be.

A firm arm wrapped around his shoulder, instantly making Colin tense. It was familiar, yet how long had it been since he’d received such a casual affection from the man this arm belonged to?

Slowly, Colin turned to his father. The Unbroken General’s eagle-like gaze was also scanning the people below.

“Do not worry. The Kingdom is fine for now. This is not the direction we must face, even though you are right to be concerned. Keep in mind that our duty is different. We are the hands that must hold the sword, not the dagger. " His father’s words were soft but left no room for argument. He pulled Colin away from the edge of the wall facing the Kingdom and brought them to the other side.

Giving them a clear view of a vast and empty wasteland.

Only Colin knew it wasn’t empty. Dreadful bugs through damned other worlds lived out there—among other, also horrible things.

Now, though, the most startling sight of the dead wasteland wasn’t its lack of life. No. The entire sky in that direction was filled with clouds—black and grey twisting things wrestling in the sky as they flew and crashed into one another. They twisted and churned, darkening the landscape below into darkness nearly as black as a moonless night.

That shadow below the wall of clouds was broken only on occasion by a wild strike of lightning, which would slam into the earth with enough strength to spew sand and dirt and leave only craters and glass where it struck.

“A storm comes, son. Only you have the eyes to see it, to help us shape a way through it which doesn’t leave us destroyed. You take pride in your nobility but don’t understand your role in our society. We must face this storm since others cannot. They cannot see it from behind the wall. House Nitidus must raise the sword to strike this down, to be ready to slay it once it arrives, or all else will surely be doomed.”

Colin stared at the churning storm; mile by mile, it was approaching closer, drawing near—the black clouds in the forward stretching and racing towards them like eager hands. The air grew heavier, laden by the pressure of the storm.

Beneath that, though, was more. A stirring of magic. Colin shifted his vision and peered into the world beneath the surface.

Using his eyes was like… Seeing a different set of colors, the dark bellowing purples that ran wild through the clouds in the distance brought forth an electrifying feeling to them that resonated with his soul. Below, the broad swath of blue—water mana. That wasn’t to say that all water had mana… Or any storm was charged with magic. No, actually, the opposite. Magic did exist, and parts of it might play into forming storms now. Given the way the world was. But it would be more like traces in the weather.

This. The storm in front of him was entirely a different beast. All of it was mana. Every bit. A vast quantity and sum of mana that was hard to imagine, much less contain or prevent. The wasteland was drenched in a neverending rain as the whipping and howling wall of water and winds raced towards the wall. An eye appeared in the clouds, gold mana tracing out its outline in the purple mana above, as Colin felt something observing him right back—and then it made sense.

He’d seen this before.

Back on the expedition… That…

There was a flash of lightning, brighter than the rest, as the winds finally crashed into the steel curtain. Colin fell to his knees, grabbing the chain anchored to the side; the wind whipped him straight from the wall and threw him into the empty air beyond, knowing that if he let go, he’d fall to his death.

“Father!” he screamed out to the rain and cold.

But the Unbroken General was nowhere to be seen.

Another massive strike of lightning hit the steel wall, cutting through it effortlessly like a hot knife through butter. Then he saw it, lit by the glow of the burning metal—the Storm Giant, its massive blackened figure walking steadily towards the Kingdom.

“You must be strong enough to face it. You must be the sword which will slay giants, behemoths, and stags. If you wish to be a Nitidus, that is what your noble blood demands of you. Else, you have failed your namesake.” His father’s voice came from nowhere, yet everywhere.

With that—the Giant raised a finger; a pillar of lightning sparked towards Colin.

Then, the vision ended.

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