It was a dark night. The only light piercing through the fog came from an uncanny yet welcoming bonfire, which seemed to hold the essence of life itself. Every ember burned as though etched with memories or melodies, consumed by the fire, then drifting as ash into the fog.
“We drift like worried fire.” The knight mumbled under his breath, his voice heavy with a faint sadness yet devoid of emotion.
For a time, they sat in silence, admiring the dancing embers from the bonfire as they lit the surrounding air. The knight had met Priscilla back in another kingdom, a place now just a distant blur in his memory. His quest lacked direction, so he often sought the company of others, letting their paths guide him in hopes of finding purpose.
Priscilla was a wanderer. She traveled through forests and valleys with her companion, Godzi—a small, four-legged, scaly creature, about the size of a cart's wooden wheel. Though many would have feared such a creature as children, Priscilla saw in Godzi her own frightful reflection and befriended him. From then on, they walked a single path together.
“They call you moonless knight, don’t they?” “Yes…”
“Why is that?”
“I was cursed long ago…” the knight replied… His words sounded dull, as if he was desperately attempting to believe his words held any value within them, yet aware that they no longer meant anything.
Priscilla sighed, as if she somehow understood and felt the meaning behind the knight’s words…
The knight paused for a moment to admire the fire, he was attempting to assemble his memories and thoughts through the sparks of the fire.
“It happened when I was young. I was always drawn to the moon. She sheltered me, guided me, her light a constant companion in the darkness.
“But one night, I lost her.” The knight paused, his voice thick with regret. “I was near a still body of water, gazing at her reflection. I thought… perhaps if I stepped closer, I could feel her light more fully. But as I leaned in, the ground beneath me gave way. The water swallowed me whole.”
He clenched his fists, the firelight reflecting off his armor. “When I finally surfaced, gasping for air, she was gone. The moon no longer watched over me, no longer guided my steps. And then… this.” He gestured at his armor. “It fused to my skin, cold and unyielding. I can’t take it off. I can’t feel anything.
“I became unbreakable, my strength unmatched—but at the cost of my humanity. With every passing day, I grow more tired. And now, I am nothing but a hollow shell.”
“Is that why people fear you?”
“I think so… I’ve heard so many rumors. They’ve called me a monster, because they don’t know who is underneath all this armor, sometimes I end up believing in their words.”
“I’ve heard these stories before. See, I know them well… you destroy what you touch, everything you touch, perish. You hollow out people, that way you’re full. You’re a monster, misunderstood, hidden under our childhood bed. The thought of you frightens us, we don’t look inside the closet, we keep the door shut.”
The knight paused, letting Priscilla’s words sink in. He could feel her understanding, deep and genuine.
“Please don’t be afraid. I would never try to hurt you”, the knight responded.
“I’m not the one you should worry about frightening… You mentioned your quest earlier… so you seek the moon?”
“I seek that which was taken from me. So yes, I seek the moon. I have faith once I get her back, I will have finally broken this curse. And I will rid myself of this armor, and finally get some rest.”
“I heard rumors of a painted world, tis but a cold, dark and very gentle place. Home of those who are lost or have lost… a world created by the moon herself for those who seek shelter from this accursed world.”
“Tell me about this painted world.” The knight responded. “The saying goes as follows:
“Under the moonlight shines my painted world
The night is my canvas
the light is my paint
Auroral land shelters the misfits
From ones whom beget harm”
They say it’s a land painted with moonlight—a place where night is endless, and the cold is gentle. Misfits and wanderers find solace there, safe from the harm of this world.”
The knight took some time to think about those words.
“A painted world…” He thought to himself. “I wonder if I may find the moon there.”
“There is a void inside you, is there not??” Priscilla asked. “Perhaps that world can fill the void in your soul.”
“I have been in this world for a very long time. I have the strongest armor, yet this rotten place still manages to hurt deep in my soul. I have long wanted to escape but thought to myself, there is nowhere to go. How can you make promises of a world like no other, where I may rest, where I may find the moon… How am I to believe those words on nothing but a rumor of this painting.”
“I know you still see hope. I know you are surrounded by darkness and yet a glimmering light still retains its glow deep inside your soul. I know you will believe me because you want to believe, because you must believe, or else the darkness will consume you whole and the void inside your soul will take over.”
The knight shed a tear of pure emotion. It was the most honest form of sentiment. The tear landed on a piece of his armor, creating a small pierce on contact. It had been years since the last time the knight had felt a sense of hope.
“I have been trying to not lose hope, but it just seems impossible. I have scoured the world facing the most horrifying truths about this place. It is all darkness out there, the only light there is comes from my own delusions… I feel like I am fooling myself, constantly clinging on to hope. Yet I feel like if I do lose hope, I will betray that which I love most, The moon herself. I know she would want me to believe. I know she’s waiting for me to find her…”