Realm Lord

Arthur waited and waited and waited...

His dark sense remained active and alert, ready to detect even the slightest movement in his vicinity. Each passing minute felt like an hour as he lay there, feigning sleep while his mind raced with possibilities and fears.

Time stretched on with no movement, no disturbance in the stillness of the night. Arthur started to feel hints of relief washing over him with each uneventful minute. Perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps the recovered memories were false after all—hallucinations brought on by this strange world.

But that fragile hope shattered when his sense picked up movement. Subtle but distinct.

Luke had turned slightly and was looking directly at him. Even with his eyes closed, Arthur could feel the weight of that stare piercing through him, studying him intently. For minutes that seemed like eternities, Luke simply watched him, while Arthur was practically holding his breath in anticipation, fighting to maintain the steady rhythm of feigned sleep.

Finally, Luke rose to his feet. He stood over Arthur for a moment—a moment in which Arthur thought his racing heart might betray him—before slowly walking away.

Towards the roses.

'No, no, no... please, no.'

Arthur pleaded in his mind, desperate to be wrong. But unfortunately, what his senses were telling him disappointed him more and more by the second. Luke walked deliberately into the field of dead roses, his movements careful yet purposeful. He leaned down among the withered blooms and seemed to say something—words that Arthur could barely pick up even with his enhanced senses.