𝖪𝖭𝖮𝖷.

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)

Be it —-
𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱.
𝖲𝖮𝖭 𝖮𝖥 𝖮𝖣𝖨𝖭.
𝖦𝖮𝖣 𝖮𝖥 𝖳𝖧𝖴𝖭𝖣𝖤𝖱.

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.

“He glances toward Kee, brief but burning. “Your instincts got us this far. Mine say he’s not alone.”

Then to the boy - - his tone shifting, a jagged edge wrapped in false warmth.

“You made it out. That’s luck, boy.”

He exhaled slowly, the weight of his leather chest piece creaking as he shifted. “If Stryke recognizes them, that’s either 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿 news. . .” He glanced at the others, voice dipping to a rough murmur, “…or the kind that gets us all 𝙆𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙀𝘿.”

Knox’s hand rested on the pommel of his sword, fingers drumming once against the worn leather as his eyes flicked toward the window. The low whistle of wind through the cracks in the shutters carried with it something - - familiar, but wrong around the edges.

“You must go before me.” He says. “If they come again from down here, I’ll will be ready this time.”

With one last glance —- a flicker of something unspoken. Recognition, maybe. Or the faint unease of seeing how failure in battle could cost them everything.

“You held your ground when others would’ve run.” Knox says to Kee, following behind —- the faint ruffle of leather echoing in the hollow space as he gestures to Sybella.

Knox would nod to Kee’s suggestion.

“I do not speak for my Empress, but I am more than inclined to join you. Whatever this darkness be —- it needs to be removed.”

“I am fine.”

He says to Sybella, with emotion —- without falter. He had never felt something like that. That pain —- that ache that felt like an itch he could not scratch. It felt. .unreal. Like magic he did not know could exists. (c)

For a moment, he doesn’t move —- just stares, jaw tightening, as if weighing whether to smash the whole damn thing to splinters.

“Cowards, more like. Hide behind shadows, send their pawns to do the bleeding for them.”

He steps closer to the desk Kee had searched, resting a hand on its edge as his eyes linger on the parcels.

“Secretive? That’s one way to dress it up.” His voice is rough, low, the kind that carries even when it isn’t raised.

Although he would usually put up a fight to any sort of medical treatment, Knox is not one to play with magic. Especially dark magic —- which maybe terrified him more so than he’d like to admit.

He allows her hand to fall from his elbow —- a dancing feeling of her touch left on his skin.

He’s quiet —- maybe more so than ever before. Watching as her hand touches to his elbow, and for a brief moment there’s a smile to his face.

It leaves him as quickly as she commands the next.

He is held —- and the darkness that rises up Knox’s arm begins to fade. Crawling back to his wrist, his fingers, and finally gone. It feels like the fire is gone, like his breath comes back to him, and he can stand again. Although weakly.