Endless Knight

Objective: Acclimate. Use the time she has left...Wisely.
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Looking through her.
Intelligent eyes followed the ring that Alkor lifted. She didn’t understand. Watching it pass from his hand almost bothered here, and yet, if she never saw the ring again it would be too soon. Her lips pressed flat. If this was what she wanted? She had no say. The ghostly creature couldn’t hide in his shadow forever. Time had continued on for everyone—But to her?
Alkor was still the Knight Commander. She was still on Thyferra. Somewhere that none of them had been in a very, very long time. It would be an adjustment period. The man that she always stood dutifully beside brought her attention back to the present. His words were dour. Familiar. “I made a choice…It was my choice…”, she uttered, swallowing a flinch, when she recalled bits and pieces of the ramifications of her decision.
A weaker individual would have screamed. Openly. Wept. Railed against it—Claimed it wasn’t true. Naedira only had acceptance. She knew that Alkor blamed his choices. She could feel it in the air. She had always, always felt it. But the truth?
She’d been the one to decide to die. She’d been the one to decide it was the only way to spare her fellow Knights. To keep the Fortressa from plunging out of the sky while a Mountain of a Sith rolled through it like a rampaging Zillow beast. There was no hope of winning. Never had been. But, that hadn't been the goal. Hesitant eyes raised toward


She paused. It was the softest plea, made from past experience. The specter shifted uncomfortably as if somehow, it pained her to make the request. To admit further weakness, failure, aside from being dead. Was there any failure more final?
“It hurts. Makes it harder to... Stay.”
Voph was the one to accept that which she was tethered to. Her shoulders slowly seemed to lose some of the tension. He placed her away, safe, and Naedira could only watch. He was filled with a quiet confidence but there was something else. The Mirkalukan wanted this over. Not for the first time, the Knight pondered the dangers that presented themselves. Vylmira might have the power to create a new form for her. What else did it have the power to do?
Gerwald denied what she’d cautioned against and the ghost fell quiet. Naedira wanted to remember him. Just as much as she wanted to remember Alkor. She knew him more than most because of his constant presence to the tether, but, she couldn’t help but feel as if she had missed something important. The way he watched her ghost…
It hurt to look at him.
“Nice to meet you Redd…”, she spoke, pressing a tired smile to pale lips, cracked and dry. It was strange that she seemed to deteriorate. Her cheeks were sunken and her skin seemed to be made of pale tissue paper. The weaker her spirit grew; the more it could be seen in her manifestation.
The trek to the Great Temple began.
Naedira followed them in earnest. Vylmira was full of things. Colors, that her eyes had forgotten. Her expression had all but crumbled. How could there be so many colors? All she saw was darkness. The endless, swirling black, that had no end. No beginning. It simply spread on forever. Her arms crossed just beneath her bust and she steeled her features. They were all here, by some miracle, to set her free. If they could do this?
She could do this. She would do this. She wouldn’t give in.
No matter how the darkness called.