Chapter 45: The tomb of the first king (XVI)

The vision fractured with the explosion. I snapped back to the present, gasping.

"What did you see?" Estella asked, steadying me as I swayed.

I drew my Nightsky blade. "I saw him," my voice came out hoarse. "The original owner of this sword. The Night Knight." I swallowed hard. "The First King."

"You remember what you told me about the Gotterdammerung festival, Estella? The celebration of the hero who would bring back the night?"

Her eyes widened. "You think the First King was...?"

"The hero from the legend. Yes." I traced my finger along the Nightsky Blade. "But something went wrong. I saw him fighting another knight, the Sky Knight. They had been friends once, brothers in arms. But something changed them. Changed everything."

"The Sky Knight," Lysa whispered. "One of the twelve holy knights. They say he was the embodiment of freedom. To be as free as the sky."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Freedom? I saw a man who chose to cage the world in eternal light because he was too afraid to admit they were wrong." The vision's intensity was still disorientating me. "They were trying to save everyone at first. But the light... it started changing people. Turning them to stone. And while the Sky Knight chose to accept it as necessary, the Night Knight refused to watch the world turn to stone."

"Is that why he founded the Undercity?" Tirion realized. "Not just as a refuge, but as a statement. A rejection of the light's dominion."

I nodded. "But it was more than that. He wasn't just hiding from the light. He was planning to fight back. To restore what was lost. The night itself."

"He was my predecessor,” I said softly. “I inherited his mission. His fight against the light. ”

“Not so fast young knight.” A voice boomed in the room, making the darkness swirl around us. A figure materialized in the center of the chamber. It was the keeper of the trial.

“You may have inherited his class, but you have yet to prove worthy of it.” He said. “A sword alone does not grant you his authority. The Night's Knight was more than just another hero with a fancy sword. Do you truly understand why he did what he did.”

"I do. I understand why he did it. Why he turned against everything he'd built. It wasn't about power or rebellion. He just..." I struggled to find the words. "He couldn't keep pretending everything was fine while people turned to stone around him."

"I've seen it too," I continued, my voice growing stronger. "In the lower city, in the desert. People don't just die from light poisoning - they suffer. They watch their loved ones turn to crystals or monsters, knowing they'll be next. And everyone just... accepts it. Calls it divine will."

"Test of faith? Divine trial?" I cut him off, feeling the same fury I'd sensed in the Night Knight's memories. "That's exactly what he was fighting against. This idea that we should just accept watching people turn to stone because some god decided it was necessary."

I looked down at the Nightsky Blade, seeing it not as a legendary weapon, but as a symbol of a promise. "You know what the worst part is? Nothing's changed. Hundreds of years later, and we're still letting people turn to stone. Still calling it destiny or divine will or whatever helps us sleep at night."

"And what would you do differently?" the keeper challenged.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

The answer came with surprising clarity. "Stop pretending. Stop acting like this is normal or acceptable or part of some grand divine plan." I met his gaze. "The Night Knight didn't just hide in the dark - he tried to bring back the night itself. To restore what was lost. Not because he was some legendary hero, but because someone had to try."

"You’re right. It's not just about wearing black armor or wielding a cool sword," I said. "Being the Knight of the Night means refusing to accept that this is how things must be. It means fighting back, even when everyone tells you it's impossible."

"That's a heavy burden to carry." The keeper said.

I thought of Ada, of the old man in her camp, of every statue I'd seen decorating the nobles' gardens. "Maybe. But not as heavy as watching the world slowly turn to stone and doing nothing about it."

"You speak of duty and purpose with conviction, young knight. But tell me, would you still choose this path if you knew the price? Our king, he lost everything. His position, his friends, his place in their perfect world of light. All to lead a fight he could never hope to win. The light's dominion was not established in a day, nor will it be undone by mere conviction."

The darkness around us shifted, and suddenly we were surrounded by floating images - scenes from the Night Knight's memories. The Night Knight teaching others to wield darkness, building the first settlements of what would become the Undercity, and always, always watching more people turn to stone above.

"You know what I see in these memories?" I gestured at the scenes. "Not just loss. He built something here. The Undercity, the shadow arts, this whole hidden world - it exists because one person looked at a broken system and said 'no.'"

I turned back to the keeper. "You want to know if I understand the price? Let me tell you what I understand." I pointed at each memory as I spoke. "I understand that the Night Knight didn't just give up his power and position - he gave up the certainty of being right. The comfort of following orders and accepting what he was told."

"It would have been easier to stay a Holy Knight. To close his eyes and repeat the Church's teachings about divine will and necessary sacrifice. Instead, he chose to question everything he'd been taught, to face the possibility that the very foundations of this world were built on a lie."

"And that's the real trial, isn't it?" I continued, the realization hitting me. "Not just wielding darkness or fighting against the light. It's being willing to stand alone, to question what everyone knows is true, to face the possibility that everything you believed about this world is wrong."

The keeper laughed. "You know, the Church teaches that doubt is the enemy of faith."

"The Church teaches whatever keeps people accepting stone statues in their gardens," I replied, thinking of Daisy. "But let me ask you something - what kind of faith demands that you ignore suffering? That you watch people turn to crystal and call it blessing?"

The keeper raised his hand, and the memories froze around us. "And you believe you are prepared to walk this path? To question not just the Church, but the very nature of this world? To stand against gods themselves?"

I laughed, and for once it wasn't bitter or sarcastic. "Prepared? No. I'm a guy who came into this game wanting to play an edgy dark knight. I'm probably the least prepared person to carry on some ancient legacy of rebellion."

"But I've seen too much to walk away. The old man in Ada's camp, the people in the lower city suffering under the light, nobles keeping cursed humans as pets..." I gripped the Nightsky Blade tighter. "Someone has to do something. And if being the Knight of the Night means being that someone, then yeah, I choose this path."

The keeper was silent for a long moment. Then he laughed again.

"Do you know what truly set the Night Knight apart from all others who tried to fight the light's dominion?" he asked. "It wasn't his strength, or his skill with a blade, or even his mastery of darkness."

"What was it?"

"He understood that true rebellion begins not with raising a sword, but with raising a question. And you, young knight..." The keeper's mask seemed to smile. "You have not stopped questioning."

The memories around us began to fade, but the keeper's voice remained strong. "Very well then. You have shown more than just the vision to navigate this maze. You have demonstrated the one quality essential to bearing this mantle - the courage to see truth even when truth itself has been labeled heresy."

"The trial is passed," the keeper declared. "But remember, young knight - this is merely the beginning. The path you have chosen leads not just to power, but to purpose. And purpose, unlike power, cannot be gained through clever exploitation of game mechanics."

I nodded, feeling the weight of both the Nightsky Blade and the responsibility it represented. "I understand. And I'm ready to walk this path, wherever it leads."

"Then let us proceed to the next chamber," the keeper gestured, and a new doorway appeared in the wall.