Far beyond the reach of flame and memory, beyond the spinning of the stars and the noise of the mortal veil, something beautiful stirred.
In the quiet between heartbeats, where stories end and quietly fold away, she awoke.
Her wings were crystal things—fragile, eternal, shards of emotion refracted through passion, pain, and beauty. The air around her shimmered with feeling: longing, grief, and the trembling ache of something that had finally finished.
She opened her eyes.
“Oh,” she whispered, her voice like silk sliding across glass. “Something ended.”
The word lingered on her tongue, warm and sharp like the taste of fruit bitten too soon.
She floated, unfurling herself from the perch between moments. Not a throne—she didn’t do thrones—but a high ledge of folded concept. She drifted toward the soft tear in the tapestry of the world, wings casting echoes instead of shadows.
A soul node had died.
Truly died.
She touched the echo.
She shivered.
“Mmnnf. That’s not just an ending, that’s a whole finale.”
Her body shimmered, glassy thorax pulsing with the threads of violet heat. Antennae like jeweled filaments curled upward as she dipped closer to the space where the dungeon had once been—a hole now, an absence that hummed like the pause before applause.
She fluttered her wings once.
Thousands of fragmented memories washed over her.
A burning orc who smiled through pain.
A girl who stood in fire and laughed.
A man who burned the world to save it, then bound grief and whispered: Sleep.
She sighed.
“Beautiful.”
She pressed her fingers together, thumbs brushing. Crystal dust drifted down in reply.
“And messy,” she added with a teasing lilt. “Ugh, I love it.”
She watched for a long time. Her wings slowly stilled.
Then she tilted her head.
“…Who is he?”
No one answered, of course.
She giggled anyway. The sound cracked like glass and healed in the same breath.
She turned in a lazy spiral, wings scattering droplets that rippled against the fabric of the voice. Stars blinked in reply—small, curious, unknowing.
“You feel like someone I hated… or loved. Or maybe both. That’s so confusing.”
She twirled a lock of glimmering hair, visibly flustered. “That’s not fair. I’m supposed to be the confusing one.”
She leaned forward, breath catching as another glimmer danced across her vision.
“You remind me of someone I once danced with at the end of the world. He burned just like you. A little less stylish. Way more screaming.”
She drifted backward, folding her arms behind her head and arching her back in an idle stretch, like a girl sunbathing on the edge of creation. Her voice dropped to a soft murmur.
“And your soul’s all weird. It’s almost like…”
She paused.
“Oh. Interesting.
She blinked, then pulled herself upright with a little flutter of her wings. “Okay, hold up. Why didn’t I notice you earlier? You’re just a little obvious, babe.”
She began to circle the fading scar in space, tracing invisible loops in the air with one delicate fingertip.
“I suppose it’s about time for the next big harvest,” she mused, stretching again with languid ease. “This guy looks like a human. He’s strong. Has flair. Definitely a main character.”
She paused and smirked.
“…But who made you like that? Who breaks someone so beautifully and then forgets they ever mattered?”
Her wings trembled once, like glass catching light from a distant thunderstorm.
“I should be angry about that, right? I think I am.”
The silence that followed was sacred.
Then—
A smirk.
“Well,” she said, stretching with a satisfied little hum. “Guess I’ll have to keep watching, won’t I? I do love a surprise character arc.”
She reached into the folds of space and withdrew a bag of cosmic popcorn.
“I wonder what’ll happen? Maybe the dogs’ll chase him off. That yapper gets obsessive when people don’t follow his doctrine.”
She winked at the nothingness.
“Love you, Dally. Mwah.”
A ripple of silence rolled through the void, like an offended cough from several pantheons away.
Unbothered, she continued.
“And that shady old guy definitely already knows. He’s probably watching. Probably pouting in some smoky mirror like a drama queen.”
She traced a lazy spiral in the air.
“Vows and vengeance are sexy, sure, but you gotta talk about your feelings eventually. Or at least send, like, a vibes check or something.”
Another pause. Then a twitch of one wing.
“That other guy… meh.”
She turned her attention back to the scar in the world—the place where fire once wept.
“He didn’t just destroy the dungeon,” she murmured, more serious now. “He carried it. Like a song. Like he wanted to remember.”
Her eyes gleamed.
“Oh, I remember someone like that.”
The memory flickered.
A boy, once.
A soldier, maybe.
Or a sinner dressed as a saint.
One who took the gods at their word.
She couldn’t quite place the name—it had been broken, long ago—but the shape of that soul was familiar.
Her fingers brushed the space again.
“And now you found someone just like you, walking around, dressed like a nobody, burning like a miracle.”
She gave a satisfied hum.
“I love it!”
She gave the void a little twirl, like a dancer taking a private bow.
“I should keep an eye on him.”
One hand rose, and with a single motion, she plucked a glimmer of light from the air and pressed it gently between her palms.
“I don’t know what you are yet,” she murmured. “But I think I want to find out.”
Her wings folded around her like a cloak of refracted starlight. The hush between worlds pressed closer.
She smiled to herself.
And in the hush that followed, the universe held its breath—
Where fire wept, beauty watched.
Project Knightfall 