The sky was engulfed in darkness, bleeding the sun until its light could shine no longer. Atop the
horizon, desolate mountains provided a resting place for the clouds, returning snow in favor.
Buried beneath the frozen blanket, a castle lay in ruin. The halls, suspended in tranquility, its
guardians reduced to unmoving corpses that laid littered throughout the desolate bastions. One guardian, however, stood tall before the King’s door. A knight of no renown, and no name to speak of. His mind dormant, yet his will left unscathed. In his right hand, he held the pommel to his
longsword. His left lay to rest on the quillon. Plate armor obscured his vulnerable flesh, from the
armet helmet donned above his head, to the greaves strapped to his calves. One may mistake him
for an ancient ornament, were it not for the small release of condensation after every idle
exhale. He stood unmoving, pledged in eternal service to a king, whom, unbeknownst to him,
had long since made his journey to Caelum, alongside every other fallen warrior who had once
populated these halls. All, bar one.