For a moment, his sword fell when the dark creature withered away into a gnarled staff. But the voice - his voice - echoed all around him before chaos broke out. Tendrils of black inked out of everywhere spreading out like thorny branches, reach for each and everything. He watched as the Great King was torn apart with little effort. The claws penetrated the earth, rippling toward them in a terrifying tsunami of sharp, little spears.
Then, suddenly disappeared.
The lady in white did something out of his field of vision as he felt a rush of energy pull through him - revitalizing him. The knight ran his hands over his body, skeptical that what wounds he had were gone. They were. She spoke of returning to their world so the assumption - rather unorthodox - was true. This wasn't a faraway kingdom or land, but another world. With a single command, he found himself sheathing his blade, turning from the beauty that was this land, and stepping through the portal.
The black knight had stepped through. The sky was clear, vibrant blue once again, cleansed of the darkness that had tainted it. But the catastrophe wasn't erased. The castle was in ruins, beams, rubble, debris littered the once beautiful castle of Camelot.
The lake. The lake that all gathered at. The black knight knelt before the pool of water with a solemn expression that melted to a soft smile.
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Uru wakes, pulling himself up through shadows, freeing himself from its grasp. It wasn't a strange feeling, he did not hurt or feel threatened, it was just - thick. One hand planted on the floor, then the other, slowly he pulled himself free from the wall. Turning to where he had entered, the shadow ebbed away into a white wall. In fact, there was a white wall all around him in this white room. A single station stood there in the center of the space; a table with an opened book and a sword. The blade was white against a white table, the contours difficult to concern against the similar colored surface, but the gold runes told him where the handle was. It was unmovable. Beneath the sword was the book, its page it was opened to was blank. He turned a few pages to the left and right and saw that they were also blank. In turn, he turned it to the beginning to find words slowly inking onto the parchment. He watches as words rearrange, move and become solid. The name - his name slowly changed from Uru'baen to Urian Belvins. Slowly, the memories of what was going through his head was coming onto the page. The orphan, the foster family of farmers and tanners, the pageship, the apprenticeship, the basket hilt, the horse named Cedric, the quests to a summit to loot magical artifacts, the knighting, Remittuntur, it all came to him. The knight's face became longer than his own, his hair lightening to brown, his eyes melted from blue to brown. His memories were falling to the page like they were writing out his thoughts.
Memories? ... or Dreams?
Frantic, Uru flipped through the pages. All of them blank as each page was scanned for some sort of writing but none until the last. War is coming