Realm Lord

As the adrenaline faded, reality crashed into Arthur with the force of a tidal wave. His breath caught in his throat as he sat up in a sudden, desperate movement.

"Luke!"

He turned to see his friend lying limp on the ground beside him, staring at the night sky with an empty gaze. One hand rested over the wound in his chest, which still rose and fell faintly—a whisper of life, flickering like a candle in the wind.

Arthur crawled to his side, movements frantic and disjointed. "NO!" His hands trembled violently, mind racing a million miles per second as he kneeled over Luke's body. The moonlight caught the tears beginning to well in his eyes, turning them to silver.

"No, no, no..."

Arthur gently moved Luke's hand away from the wound, and suddenly tears began to flow compulsively down his face as he fully comprehended what he'd done. The reality of his actions hit him with crushing weight—he had manifested that blade, he had ended his friend's life.

"I—I didn't... I'm sorry, I—"

Words failed him completely. What could he possibly say that would undo this moment? What apology could mend the terrible wound he had inflicted? He tried desperately to cup his hands over the injury, to somehow stop the blood from leaving Luke's body, but Arthur's mind was scattered, fragmented by shock and grief.

He went as far as desperately scooping the blood back toward the wound, as if he could reverse the flow of life leaving his friend. All the while, he whimpered the word "no" quietly under his breath, a prayer to a universe that wasn't listening.