Realm Lord

Arthur remembered...

It all started to come together like pieces of a puzzle he didn't know he was trying to solve. Memories flooded his mind with such force that he felt physically pushed back against the temple wall. Each recollection slammed into him with devastating clarity, overwhelming his senses until he could barely breathe.

'What is this?'

The images grew sharper by the second, as though a fog was lifting from his mind. He saw himself waking in the middle of the night to the feeling of a hand clasped firmly over his mouth and the sensation of something dry and bitter sliding down his throat. His eyes had flown open in shock, but the face hovering above him had been blurry, distorted by the darkness.

"Shh, it's okay... everything is gonna be okay."

The words echoed through the chambers of his memory, soft yet menacing in their false comfort. Terror had flooded his mind, followed by confusion as the hand left his mouth. Something had fallen from that palm—petals, he realized now. Petals from one of the dead roses in the field, their ashen gray color visible even in the dim moonlight. The same hand had then repositioned itself against the side of Arthur's head, pressing firmly against his temple.

"Sleep now."

Such simple words, yet they had carried a weight beyond their meaning. The face above him had suddenly become clear in that moment, the features sharpening into a familiar visage that Arthur had trusted implicitly.

'Why?'