/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-616
chapter-615

“Sophia.”

Upon hearing her name called, she blinked open her eyes, expecting to see the familiar and comforting wooden ceiling of the room that Argrave had given her. Instead, there was an endless grayness above that gave no sense of distance. She sat up urgently and looked around. There, she saw the man was not her father, yet resembled him all the same.

Tall. Neat black hair. Dark red eyes. She couldn’t tell what he was wearing because the grayness seemed to billow mist that concealed him. She tried to say something, but found she lacked the energy to speak. Her whole body felt heavy, like she was wrapped in something entirely contrary to her being.

“You always said you wanted a knight to come and save you. To take you away,” he said, his figure shimmering. He spoke as if he was tired—as if being here was a tremendous strain on him. “A knight that could stand up to anything. A knight that never tired. A knight who took you to a place where hardships never came.”

She calmed when she knew this was not a nightmare. Hearing her dream for a knight said now, it felt like a desire of the distant past and a reminder of the death she had caused by giving life to that dream. She already had been taken away—not by a knight, but by a king just like her father who truly deserved the title of ‘Good King.’ The life that she had found was not at all like what she expected, but now… now, that knight didn’t occupy her thoughts. The next day was not dreaded, but merely expected. There was still sadness, but there was also joy. And that, as Elenore had once told her, was just life.

“That knight is coming,” the man said. “He will be born, soon, answering the call of all your wishes. He will do that which I was powerless to. He will protect you from all harm, all danger. He will bring a justice your world lacked.”

Darkness seemed to reach out from the gray, clawing at the man’s body. Sophia had an ominous premonition it didn’t seek him, but her. A haunting roar of primal anger echoed across the place, and Sophia felt chills run up her spine before that force disappeared.

“The gold comes together to form a tree,” he continued, nearly panting as he looked upon her. “And from their wills, the knight shall be born. Your knight. Await him. I will not be long after.”

Then he was gone, leaving no trace of his presence behind. In parting, the man took more than his being. The grayness all around dissipated, as did that malignant presence that he fought against. He took the words he spoke, too, leaving only the feelings they evoked.

Sophia awoke, and saw the familiar and comforting wooden ceiling of the room that Argrave had given her. As she blinked the morning fog from her eyes, she knew that she had a dream. As was often the case with dreams, she thought deeply on it yet could not recall its contents. Still, she felt a strange feeling; apprehension, anticipation, hope, and recognition tied together as a knot that brought pause to her mind. But despite her exploration, the dream did not return to her—only images of a knight, and the surety she had been with someone she once knew.

But… it wasn’t an unpleasant dream, surely?