“There once was a mother, her warmth for all to embrace

Her love shone through even the darkest of disgrace

But her children were feared, for their power defied the Stars

And so she wept until naught remained but scars

Her will was split into six

Her soul forever affixed

Her children became confined

Her beloved lost to time

But not all is hopeless; there is always the light

The Comet shall descend, shining ever so bright

As they always have

As they always will.”

Opening lines of The Nebulas

———

The Knight

Far, far away from the kingdoms of man, amidst the razed fields and charcoal soil, stands a lone Knight adorned in shining silver. A long lance is pierced through its stomach while blades, arrows, and shards of steel are imbedded within its flesh. A liquid nebula of celestial color leaks out from the wounds—trickling onto the ground and leaving a puddle of flowing space.

The Knight is silent; the world is hushed. There are no more cries. No more screams. Only an eerie serenity remains amongst the now-still battlefield.

The muted being staggers itself up and beholds the ruined landscape before its weary eyes. Corpses of heroes, warriors, and Rulers alike lie dismembered throughout the land as a river of crimson soaks the earth, a ghastly smell of rot permeating from the flayed remains of the damned. The once verdant field is now tainted, forever haunted by the broken dreams of those whose lives have been cut short.

A faint gasp escapes from a waning remnant nearby. They have been severed in two, yet they cling to consciousness in a vain struggle for life as intestines and organs spill out of their body’s gaping maw.

They lock eyes with The Knight, despair etched onto their star-speckled irises. Their voice quivers as they confront their executioner, and a weak, pained rasp coats their words.

“Why?” the last warrior asks. “Why must we be chained here? Im-Imprisoned to this stifling earth? We…I just wanted to see the Cosmos. To reach that wondrous realm of possibility. I just wanted to be free.”

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The Knight doesn’t answer. It merely stands still, stoic and emotionless, and yet a haunting chill surrounds its aura, filled with an eternity of sorrow. It waits for the warrior to breathe their last. Slowly, gently, until their desperate tremblings become mellow and their mind is put at ease.

Eventually, color drains from the warrior’s face. Their eyes glaze over, and The Knight is once again left alone, surrounded by a mound of carcasses. There is nothing left for it here. It must go.

The Knight turns around and trudges through the grim necropolis—every step crunching on the pool of blood below. Soon, lingering resentments of the slain begin to manifest and claw at its back, attempting to drag it deep below the mud and filth alongside them. It is a final last stand brought forth from lingering reflections, phantoms of The Knight's conscience begging for penance, but their efforts are in vain. No matter how many attempt to slow its advance, it marches on unbothered, fueled by a purpose that has shackled it since it can remember. It is a prisoner just as the others are, forever chained to the earth in an eternal struggle for duty.

Eventually, the revenants weaken, and their spectral forms shatter into pieces, leaving behind a trailing wisp of darkness before disappearing from existence entirely. The Knight has survived once again.

But the victory does not come easily. Soldiers from every nation gathered on this day to slay it, and yet they failed; each and every one cut down with ruthless detachment. The winged warriors of Polus, the mechanical engineers of Lux Caelum, the elusive magi of Augurium...they all blend together in an unrecognizable mass of cruel destruction.

The Knight can feel it. Its body’s collapse. Each step forward becomes heavier. Each breath sharper.

Yet, despite the carnage, the Stars above are indifferent to the plight of those that remain below the swirling galaxies. They twinkle and glimmer as if mocking The Knight for its senseless conflict and innocently dance amongst the maddening sky. The earth is hidden from their sight—isolated in its little corner of the universe.

The Knight tramples the bodies below as a drowsy listlessness starts to envelop its mind. The world is getting darker, and it is slowly crumbling from the inside. Its muscles break down, abused and battered from the seemingly endless battle, and it soon collapses onto its knees—enveloped with quiet resolution. It closes its eyes and waits for its long-sought end. Perhaps it can finally know rest, drifting away in eternal oblivion.

“…Rise, my beloved.”

A hauntingly ethereal voice invades The Knight’s mind, electrifying every pore in its body. It is a soothing voice with words rich as honey—tone a seductive allure of comfort and sweet promise.

“You cannot rest. You must rise. Again, and again. Until now and for eternity. Until they are safe from those who blot out the sky above. Protect them, my shining constellation, for that is your duty.”

It awakens from its stupor with a pained gasp. Death has denied it once again, and there is no other choice but to continue its march once again. It can’t disobey the voice. It can’t disobey her final wish.

The Knight staggers forward, slowly but surely, through the land. It has no destination, no master to return to. It simply stumbles on, filled with an encompassing emptiness.

The journey is long, night and day blending together until the desolate, ashen heap is replaced by a thriving forest. Eventually, the trees give way to a small, open clearing. Vibrant flora surrounds the border while small fauna and wildlife innocently lay about in the meadow, peacefully slumbering on the soft grass. They perk up as The Knight enters the hidden sanctuary, curious—and a bit alarmed—at the newcomer, but their worries soon disappear after sensing its lack of hostility. It has no reason to harm them. If only the same can be said about humanity.

Passing by, it makes its way towards an overgrown shrub at the center of the meadow. A large boulder rests on the leaves, and the radiant moon above illuminates a small spot in front of it, as if gently inviting The Knight to lay down and take a long rest.

It obliges and collapses in the spotlight, body limp with exhaustion. As the light fades from its eyes, it takes a final, mournful look at the starry sky above.

Seasons pass, the land changes, and yet despite everything, The Knight remains hidden in its small sanctuary at the world's end. Vines and roots grow around its surroundings, and its once lustrous armor becomes dull with age and rust.

…

One day, a baby boy is born. With his birth, the Rulers of the land become embroiled in a whirlwind of conflict and war. A war that will reach out to the very Stars themselves.

The world is changing once again.

And so, The Knight stirs once more.