As a multiethnic kid, Keon Wesley has always had to straddle two worlds. He just never expected that metaphor to become a literal reality.
Ever since his dad left five weeks ago, he's struggled to adjust to life in a single parent household. When a...
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New Hame, Loegria
Where there should have been a sky, instead there was an ocean. From night till dusk, the clouds that skimmed its surface lit up like the cosmos. Every now and then, a wave would catch a glint of their glow, sending shafts of light to illuminate the cascading hills leading away from the boundless forest.
That dusk, a dull morning mist crept over the grasslands, out of which emerged the Knight. Arrayed in chain mail from head to toe, an embroidered hooded shawl draped the armour covering his chest. The intricately woven brocade seemed to shimmer and dance in the light; not enough to expose his position, but just enough to reveal the distinctive wing-lamp insignia of a Torchbearer.
The Stronghold pierced the uppermost hill like a slab of black onyx; the secrets of its interior hidden behind thick, colossal walls. As he strode towards the ancient fortress, he withdrew a rusty short-sword from a sheath at his side.
Shadow clad sentries periodically vanished between the battlements, their black, gaseous regalia rippling like torn tongues of flame.
The Knight casually circled round the western wall. As he drew near the flanking tower, a shout rang out from the battlements. They'd spotted him—but it was already too late. He swung the sword, and the flanking tower wall exploded in a shower of stone and brick. The front of the tower collapsed into a rocky heap. Sentries plummeted into the chasm, their cries cut short by agonising thuds.
As the dust settled, survivors clawed their way through the debris. Swords drawn behind leather lined shields, they crept step by step over the rubble towards the Knight. He counted seventeen in all. That much he could handle, but the fortress walls were already swarming with reinforcements. Time was of the essence.
Twirling the blade one-eighty degrees in his hand, he rammed his clenched fist into the opposing palm. There was a crackle, a flash and a sudden gust of wind, and another knight appeared beside him. No, not another—it was the sameKnight, only now there were two of him.
"Need a little help, do we?" said the Copy Knight.
"Let's wrap this up quick. And don't get any ideas. You follow my lead."
