A secret to keep to himself more than likely.

He adjusted his shoulders, moving to stand by his Empress. The large sword he carried neatly slipped into his back sheath. He said not a word, but his face spoke for him. Perhaps, and admittedly, he just needed a good cry.

Knox was quiet, but his eyes flickered between Sybella and Kee. A shimmer crossed over his gaze like the passing sun over clouds —- and maybe just know he the moment of silence, silence from violence that is, he had realized just how beautiful Kee was. (c)

An aerial view of a dry, canyon landscape, hues of red and tan and gray with the landscape extending throughout most of the photo, with a blue sky in the distance.

"We don't think much of ants, 'til they're the size of houses and burnin' down the forests. The desert is our home... and we're losin' that, too."

“Lady Kee.” Knox said, his voice back to its resolute tone. The sound of tremble had finally left his throat. He moved, standing closer to Sybella now.

Knox rose quickly, not out of fright or readying for battle —- he knew that voice. Kee it was. Soft and tender as the morning air, and now he felt like a right fool. And quickly rubbed the last of his tears before clearing his throat. (c)

Finally, Knox seeks her eyes. Without hesitation, but with the red burn of pain only a commander of loss could have.

“I will serve you until my end. Empress. For the people we have lost, and the Kingdom would could not keep.”

Her hand is like a solid wall. Faith and understanding —- and the shared trauma of a life that was never fully lived.

Now to wanderers, aimless no more. As for they’ve seen there others just like them.

“I. .I see that place and I see our home. I see my Knights turned to ash and my world turned to stone. I feel my heart wretch and pull from my chest, and I see my failure. I —- forgive me.”

His cheek and to the tip of his chin.

Although his head was lowered, gaze diverting from her. “My Empress. Forgive me. I am weak and frail.”

From the others
—- @sybella.sunder.my

Her gentle tug brings him out of a stalwart stance, and the stoic look that pained his face began to fade when he realized where exactly he was. Quickly, Knox went to one knee before her. A small tear broke from his right eye, carving its way down (c)

He should his head. Taking a step past Kee, and the others.

Without a word, Knox continued his walk, as if they had suddenly disappeared from him, and only he and his thoughts were with him. Knox continued, and continued. Leaving the others behind.

Knox is quiet. As quiet as he ever was. But this was something he could not understand why. Memories, moments —- a life that ended in a haze and began a new one that he could hardly keep up with.

Like a river without an end —- and for some reason now it felt. . (c)

As if something dragged on his internal person.

“Gods —- I am tired of chasing ghost.” Knox said, more so to himself than the others.

“If they want a better moment,” he says, jaw tightening, “they’ll get it.”

A thin, dangerous grin tugs at his mouth. He leans to whisper to Kee. “You have nothing to fear, I know you’re capable but I will stay close.” Even though he offered kindness, there was a certain sense of solemn to him. (c)

The 𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆 is generous and it is patient and it always 𝙒𝙄𝙉𝙎 – but in the heart of its strength lies its 𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨.

You’re not the 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 of the old 𝐽𝑒𝑑𝑖, Luke. .

. .you’re the 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 of the 𝑛𝑒𝑤. .

“So the game is still afoot.” He said, although his voice was toned like stone, and hard at the edge of his lips - - the smile that slid itself over his features was more devilish than anything.

“But, I agree. There’s no telling who may be under the same control. We should move.”

To say he was surprised by Aronion’s move would be nothing short of a lie. In fact, Knox had half a mind himself to do what his companion had already enacted.

He huffed, like an Ox scraping its hoof before a charge. (c)

This waterfall washes away uncertainty. Maybe - - but it cools the bones that ache from fighting a war that ended without its own say.

So lost and waining - - a warrior without a battle. But his battle is eternal, maybe it’s always been. There is an ice wall to his heart.

I fight.
Therefore I am.

His fingers twitch toward his sword hilt again. “Tell me - - how’d you manage that?”

He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe much either. Just waits, watching the boy’s eyes, the corners of his mouth, the pulse in his neck, for the first crack in the story.