"I never pondered much of how my life would come to an end, only that it would be through my sacrifice. To perish in the throes of combat, valiantly protecting all those I love in a final, last stand, was the fate I always imagined the Stars to hold for me. At the very least, I wanted to die protecting someone like a true hero.

"And, even whilst my mind lulls and the world before me fades into discordant, empty scrawl of nothingness, I do not regret my decision. With my death, I hope to spare that pitiful soul another lifetime of agony. I wish to see them off with a gentle smile rather than the spiteful words they so desire, for I know that is their repentance.

"I know they are attempting to burden themselves further under a misguided, remorseful penitence, but I shall not feed into their flagellant punishment. No, I shall tear away the foundations of their belief, and in doing so I hope to create a different path for them. A different future, one where they may truly smile with all their heart.

"I apologize, everyone. Surasha, Sarathiel, Annalay, the Captains, and the citizens of Polus: please forgive my selfishness. The dawn shall be filled with uncertainty, and chaos will no doubt thrive in the wake of my death. For that, I deserve only the harshest of reprimands, but my body and soul are one when I say thus: I am sure that this is right. Not because of my sentiment, nor is it born of the Stars' influence. No, it is because Creation itself is swathing me in reassurance, as if my entire body is being guided along by Cosmos's gentle hand.

"Perhaps she, too, wishes for their burden to be released. And so I shall love them, together with her, in the endless expanse of the sky above."

Ascalon Power, former King and Ruler of Polus

———

The Knight

The Knight holds Ascalon within its grip for a few more torturous moments, perhaps hoping for his eyes to flutter to life once more, but there is no return from what it has done. There never is, and now, the beloved in its arms is but a mere corpse: lifeless, pale, and slowly draining of warmth as a stream of blood trickles out of his chest. It runs along the side of The Knight's hand, staining it in streaks of scarlet, before falling onto the ground in little droplets and landing atop the floorboards with a deafening thump.

Even now, his face still retains a serene, loving gaze. The Knight slowly carries him over to the bed and gently lays him down on the sheets. It sweeps his hair to the side, shutting his eyelids so that he does not need to look upon the disgraceful figure before him, and takes a seat by the bedside. The dusk is fading, and in its place the dawn peaks out from the world's edge, shining its faint light through the windowpane as the sky gradually fills with a beautiful array of gold.

"I do not understand," The Knight says with a dull, dry tone, pulling his body close to its chest. "Why, to the very end, did you refuse to hate me? Why did you choose me despite all that I have taken away from you? The kindness I showed you, the love I gave you...it was all an illusion, you fool. Everything, from the very beginning, was fake. So why, even now, do you appear at peace? So sure of our love?"

Those who fall before The Knight never leave this world with an untroubled mind. Regret for failing their task; despair upon feeling their waning life; betrayal after having their truth ripped apart; hostility and yearning embroil themselves in a never-ending spiral of hate. That is reality, and how it should always be for a being that only takes such as it.

But Ascalon is different, and The Knight cannot understand why. Even after learning the truth, he perished with the most comforting of smiles.

"...I was supposed to take on your fury," it whispers, burying its face into his blood-stained hair. "I was supposed to bear your phantom. To let it haunt me, despise me, and remind me of my duty so that your death would not be in vain. You would have become my second curse, a curse I would gladly take upon myself if it meant appeasing your spirit, but now? Your voice eludes me, Ascalon. I cannot see your wraith. I cannot feel your grudge. All that I now am is a host to confliction."

But it is not an unpleasant feeling. Rather, it melds together with its vessel once so a hollow husk. Where agony roots firm in place, a delicate air intertwines, twisting around the rotted tendrils and lifting them up until the darkness intermingles with the wisps of acceptance. Where sorrow wails out in plea, a plume of light descends, embracing the wayward heart and accompanying its mournful essence with the gentle aria of melancholy.

Grief still lingers in its soul, but instead of wallowing in the pain or rejecting the world, a strange presence comforts the sadness within. It's small, subtle, but soon, it quickly spreads to every part of its body and instills a new form to its soul. A new shape. A new perspective.

To live is to know pain, and to experience reflection. The Knight must confront themselves, and in understanding its own will, it shall grow. It shall be at ease.

To live is to know loss, and to feel acceptance. The Knight must accept the grief, the anguish and emotion, and let it flow throughout. All shall pass eventually, for it is the duty of the living to move forward. To strive for the future.

To live is to know burden, and to harken release. The Knight must set loose to the weight of duty, for the burden shall never be lightened without a cry of the soul, without a tear of liberation, and without the fear to forgive itself.

"Ascalon..." The Knight murmurs, wrapping him in an embrace. "Even after death, you are showering me with your love. If this is your answer, this essence coated in your will, then I will treasure it. May the day I see you again come quick. But, until then, I shall let my soul interweave with the curses and joys of life. I shall live with all my heart."

The darkness still persists. The wave of agony remains nigh bottomless. But, now it's different.

Now, The Knight is allowed to heal.

It tucks Ascalon in bed and rises up with unclouded eyes. A sad glow emanates from The Mattatron in the corner, royal blue flickering in sorrow, but it, too, eventually heals. It knows this fate is inevitable, after all. Such is the fate of the Astral Weapons: doomed to forever lose their masters.

"Mattatron," The Knight says, gently grabbing onto the zweihander's hilt. "I am sorry, but this land shall not stay whole for long. The Wills must be gathered. The Astral Weapons must become one. It's time."

The blade whines with a muddled azure shade, but it gives in and transfers its authority to The Knight. With the Eclipse in one hand and the Mattatron in the other, it brings the two together as they shine their respective color, and the blades combine into one in a dance of raging light before finally transforming into a floating, liquid mass of spatial dust and debris.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"It has been an age, Euclidean," The Knight says, greeting the newly-born mass. It pulses and glides around the room like an innocent child, but is quickly scolded by The Knight who pulls it back down in front of it. "For now, mold yourself into the shape of a ring until I state otherwise."

It obeys and folds in on itself around The Knight's finger until it transforms into an unassuming, dulled ring of cheap copper.

The Knight takes a deep breath in and gazes out to the slumbering camp outside. It won't be long now until the others wake. Before then, it must finally complete the first part of Aegis's succession. From the moment it awakened in the forest to the orchestrated war with Nox Caelum: all of it has been for this very moment.

"Satanael," The Knight commands. "Show yourself."

The familiar scent of flora invades the room as Satanael bursts through the entrance door with a sauntering stride, Aegis sleeping peacefully latched atop his head.

"Ah, my dear Constellation," he hums, moving into a bow. "How may I be of-"

He stops mid-flourish and freezes his body upon witnessing the sight of Ascalon's corpse. A low, raspy chuckle begins to slowly utter from his lips as he stalks around the bed and admires the sight.

"Heheheh, so this is the visage belonging to a slayed Ruler," Satanael remarks with a squint of his visible eye. "A single, straightforward thrust to the heart: impressive. To think so mighty a power would be felled in such a pathetic matter...and yet, the beauty simply takes my breath away. His hair, once so an unblemished white, now defiled by splashes of scarlet paints such a marvelous composition as it gleams off the dawn's golden luster. The bed, a safe haven supposedly shared with the one he loved most, now a scenery of betrayal, of severed ties. Aaah, it brings a tear to my eyes. How beautiful. How awe-inspiring. If only I could have his body as a seedbed-"

The Knight instantly shifts to his side and forcibly lifts him off the ground by his throat. It will not tolerate any of Satanael's drivel any longer.

"You shall do no such thing," it says with an oppressive air. "And I will not have such words directed towards the dead. Am I clear?"

Satanael doesn't resist and simply lets out an excited stammer as the pressure tightens on him. "B-But of course. I meant no harm with my words. I am your ever loyal puppet, my Constellation."

He falls onto the ground with a thud, awakening the drowsy Aegis from his slumber as Satanael rises back up with a dramatic flair.

"Oh, dear me. Blood is ever so difficult to remove from tailored garments," he laments. "Let this be a lesson upon myself to hold my tongue."

"...Indeed," The Knight sighs. "Aegis, it's time."

The little baby wobbles himself up and yawns a drowsy breath. He prepares to manifest his wings, but the sudden appearance of Ascalon's corpse frightens him, and he tumbles onto the ground with a panicked cry.

"I know it is a frightful sight," it says, catching him with a quick dart of its hand. "But do not be afraid of the dead, for there is peace in tranquility."

"Aaoo..." Aegis mumbles sadly. He hesitates to get closer to Ascalon's body, but perhaps it is because of his still-loving expression that Aegis eventually musters the courage to grab onto his finger.

"He truly was a kind man," The Knight says with a smile, still holding back a small sob within the back of its throat. "He is in a better place now. There shall be no more worry nor suffering in the beyond, so it is the responsibility of the living to carry on their memory."

Aura begins to leak out of Ascalon's body, its color is stained like the scattered horizon of space above, and the surrounding Creation trembles upon its release into the air. Reality wobbles and vibrates in place, shifting the light around them and forming geometrical shapes of light that scatter all about the room.

It has finally come out. After eons and an eternity of duty, it is time to unite all of Cosmos's Wills together, starting with Freedom.

"Be calm, Aegis," The Knight reassures as the baby panics to the chaos around it. "You must attune to the fragment of Freedom. It was born of Cosmos's will to let none obstruct her children's path. To the Stars above and the forces of the celestial firmament who denied humanity's existence, she loathed them all and wished for a world where she could break free from their shackles. Break free, Aegis. Yearn for freedom as she once did."

"Hoaw?"

"Just simply do as you always have: embrace it."

Aegis closes his eyes and raises his tiny finger forward to the sliver of aura. It bends itself into a twisting tendril, cautiously coiling around Aegis's finger until eventually it swells in size and covers the entirety of his arm. The celestial space spreads across his skin, enveloping his entire body in the space-streaked galaxy of color, and with a final burst of light, it blinds the room in twinkling sparkles of dust before melding together with Aegis's soul. His eyes begin to glimmer, and in the irises where his miniature nebula lies, a giant, amber ball of flaming starshine etches itself onto his soul.

The first of the six have been gathered. Now, there truly can be no going back.

The room returns back to reality, and Aegis is left with a puzzled expression atop the bedside. He wriggles and worms about, as if his mind is a stranger to his body, and attempts to manifest his wings, but only a puff of dust pops above him.

"Douou..." Aegis babbles while wobbling in place. After a second, he plops down into the bed and returns to the realm of the dreams.

"Hm? Is the young maestro of good health?" Satanael questions, taking the baby and placing him back on his head. It appears he has grown rather adjusted as his caretaker, though his fanaticism does leave a bit to be desired.

"Melding Cosmos's Will with his soul will require a considerable amount of energy," The Knight replies. "For the next months of yonder, he will remain unconscious until his body becomes acclimated to the abundance of aura."

"I see. Then I surmise your duplicity ends here for the Polus knights?"

"...Yes," it murmurs. "Ascalon is dead. They will have no choice but to retreat without their King and strategist, and we will stay within the region and wait for a chance to investigate Xeros."

The Knight must discover how Xeros called forth the Star of Insatiable Greed. If that thing's influence is left to fester in the world of man, then chaos will reign free until all of Cosmos's children are returned to the void of nothingness. And if the worst comes to pass and Greed invades through the fabric of the realm and descends...then The Knight must do all it can to prepare before its arrival.

Polus is a special place, one filled with warmth and a common, united populace, but it cannot stay there. It must move forward, and perhaps the day shall come when they shall become its enemies. Its heart shakes without pause at the thought of slaying Ascalon's kin, but even if its soul is drenched in the sea of agony once more, it must do anything to stop Greed's Star. It must.

A loud, belching horn suddenly bellows throughout the entirety of the camp. The earth shakes and shivers under the pressure, and soon, knights begin to pour out of the transport vehicles and out into the open plane. It won't be long before someone enters the room; they have to leave now.

"We're leaving, Satanael. Open the doorway," The Knight quickly commands.

"Hoh? Are you not interested in the source of that bellowing tune?" Satanael says briskly while opening the path to his garden. "It sounds to me like the war horn of the Augurium sorcerers. Suppose The Arch Magus has made an appearance?"

"It doesn't matter. Just leave through the door," it barks. "Nothing shall get past that wall around Caligos no matter if The Arch Magus joins the assault."

"By your command, then," he says, disappearing into the floral meadow.

Before The Knight leaves, it walks over to Ascalon's corpse and places a final kiss upon his forehead. It's time to finally part, but The Knight is comforted knowing a part of his will remains forever etched onto its soul.

"Goodbye, my beloved," it whispers. "I love you."

The Knight takes a quick glance behind one last time before it sheds its identity as Lorelai for good and disappears into Satanael's garden.

The next time it meets the forces of Polus, it shall be on the battlefield.