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Noemi moved swiftly through the crowd, and rather then grabbing at the staff or anything that the two former great knights left behind, her hand came around Milo's armored one.

"Don't!" She whispered, hoping that he would let go. "Don't Milo, it is not a weapon for us."

There was quiet look from her, one she hoped the man would understand.

"We can fight, but not if...not if....we use our....not unless we fight without our own strength."

Plus she had no idea what would happen if Milo grabbed the staff and things HAPPENED.

Time had stopped, surely. Or perhaps, to Horace, it only felt like everything moved in slow motion. Morgan was dead, slain by another knight and a distant part of himself wondered if that was all of their fates. Then there was no time to think as the mirror and gate opened - the plan all along, it seemed. The body dragged along the floor; Horace watched the slick trail of blood as it disappeared into the gate. And then, out stepped Morgan, a Morgan who was not Morgan, but Morgana. It was the same and how had anyone ever been misled by the illusion? Horace started forward, weapon in hand, but the shadows reached out and massacred Percival. He felt his stomach rebel, but swallowed down bile, the scent of blood thick in the air. He could only watch, powerless, as she disappeared and, along with her, the gate disappeared as well.

The Queen?

But, he thought, no matter what - it would've turned out the same way. Gawain and Percival would have still been crazed, still have died, and Morgan/a would have still succeeded. He told himself this, over and over and over. Even though he did not strike the killing blow on any of them, his hands felt dirty still. Dried blood was sunken into each pore and he would never be free of it. Horace hadn't... he hadn't... he had been wrong about key elements, if not all of it. Misinformation, too little true information, too late, and Gawain and Percival, speaking in near incoherence... Everything was wrong. Everyone deserved a second chance to redeem themselves, and that is what he had been hoping for in subduing Percival and Morgan. But did the Queen of the Sidhe deserve such a thing? What had they done?

He leaned against a wall briefly and stared at his hands until a chirp interrupted his (blank and formless) line of thought. A small bird, no bigger than a large coin, hopped up onto his hand. Gawain's bird, he realized abruptly. How ******** ironic, that it would come to him. Birds were stupid things, he thought, but it chirped happily in his hand, content. Horace stumbled a bit, and slumped to the floor. His hand reached out as he did so - the gate.... all that was left were the black crystals, so stark in this golden room. Jerking back from them, he pulled his hand away and simply sat there.

Nkosazana was stunned.

To say she was stunned was almost an understatement, considering Nkosazana had been near paralysed in inaction ever since she saw Gawain fall at the hand of Percival. Gawain. She had believed in Gawain, believed in what he told him, believed in his kindness and his willingness to be reasonable with them. And now? Now he was just dead and gone, not even present anymore in any form besides for his former weapon. It was almost amazing how quickly things could happen and people could disappear, like Percival. She watched Percival go from being a gallant defender to a Great Knight killer himself, and then to pieces before he didn't exist, either, left with just his sacred weapon on the ground.

Gawain and Percival had both been right to think that the action taken--pushing the gate into the mirror--was a terrible decision, even if they had different theories on what they should have done. What they did do left them with no mirror, no gate, and escaped shadowlings and even a new Queen of the Sidhe, who probably wasn't so new at all, and was really under their noses the entire time.

Softly, she groaned.

She was sitting in some of the treasures because she truly did not know what else to do. What else could she do? Nkosazana was powerless to make a difference in this case. Perhaps all of the lives she had saved within the Great Hall no longer mattered, considering some of the Great Knights were now dead, and there was a Queen of the Sidhe they would have to contend with, probably.

There were crystals scattered on the ground, and while she was briefly tempted to go take a closer look at them, Nkosazana ultimately decided that was likely a bad idea, and so, she did not. Instead, she sat and wondered what use was she, really, and pondered why she had even become a knight apprentice in the first place.

Haze the Black knight-apprentice
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Everything began to unravel, as Haze was left to his own thoughts, his own decision of weather he had done the right thing or not. A knight shouldn't have to second guess their actions, they should stay true to what they do. If any tinge of regret should plague their mind, then it would surely show them how wrong they were. But was this feeling that Haze was encountering really regret? There may have been mourning, but in reality as he stood there unable to join in the fighting of Morgan or Percieval he realized that he didn't regret what he did.

Lodging one end of his spear into the ground he would let out a breath, he didn't want to feel this weight anymore, trying to shake off these feelings. He needed to lock away these emotions, like he once did. Taking in a breath his Silver eyes skimmed the battle field, countless were attacking Mogan, the one who he had tried so hard to protect. Knights fighting against other knights. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. But there was nothing he could do otherwise. He was lost in his train of thought, his feet lodged to the ground unconsciously. He wanted to do away with these feelings. There was no way to protect Morgan anymore, and even so, he had ran into that fight in the first place blindly didn't he? Haze only just stood there, watching as the Great Knight was being torn down. His eyes growing colder the more he witnessed others lunge in their attempt to slash at Morgan. It was all for nothing. These thoughts echoed in his mind.

And then it happened, he watched it all from the sideline. Watching as the final blow was initiated on the red knight. Morgan heaving up in his last attempts, cutting into Lex before falling. The pigment of his skin grew pale as the blood rushed away from his face.

Crack.

That sound happened again. Just as it had done when he first entered the room. But this time the mirror unleashed something. The gates came open and immediately all hell broke loose. All the fights before had seem like child's play as these half formed monsters tried to claw their way out. The occurrences causing Haze to reach for his spear once more, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles practically became white. Silver eyes only dulling even more as he watched Morgan be drawn into the gate, and a woman exit from it. His breath hitched, as if hopping that by holding it he wouldn't be seen by that darkness. His unwanted desires only grown as Percival was ripped apart by shadows by just a flick of the woman's wrist. Queen of all Sidhe. The name stuck to his mind and burned against his skin. There was so many questions plagued his mind. But no way to get his answers.

Just as quickly as everything occurred, things began to end. The gate, the woman. Everything was gone and replaced with crystal. Everything including Haze's emotions, silver eyes now looking at the staff and scythe. The weapons of Knights who were once fighting with them, torn away from them by the people they trusted, and by darkness itself. Haze showed no expression on his face anymore, becoming stoic as he once was. He hadn't even known why he let his emotions control him in the first place. In the end of it all, his eyes still couldn't falter from the chained staff. Even if he no longer was burdened by aiding of the downfall of Gawain he was still drawn to it. Walking forward Haze stopped in front of the staff that once belonged to the Green Knight. Reaching out his hand the young man would rest his palm against the weapon. He wanted to see if it sparked any emotion, if it held any weight to it, if there was still something left in the legacy of the Green Knight.

The crystals shattered the moment Shun touched them, dissolving into fine sand-like pieces.



Jack, Riley, Thomas, Estel, and Haze, if they continued to grab at the staff, would feel extremely tired. The staff greedily drained their energy, and would not let them go.








Milo and Shu's attempts to grab the scythe were also unfruitful. It seemed that the weapon was resilient, but it also suggested the knights could not pick it because they had already been chosen.




A small bird was cheeping next to Horace. It looked sad, and a little lost. It probably wanted a new friend.

She could feel it. It was taking her, just as she'd prayed for. She slowly crumpled down to the ground, hardly noticing that Estel had knelt beside her, trying to take care of her once more. Riley laid down, curling up into fetal position, and let the staff take her energy willingly. She even went so far as to smile.

"Thank you." She whispered, waiting for the darkness to blanket her sorrow.

Estel released the staff as she was pulled away. She slumped into a heap next to Riley, curling up into a ball.

What an awful place to take a nap.

Like that had ever stopped her.

Noemi's call took him by surprise, causing Milo to jerk backwards and release his hold of the blue knight's weapon.

"Lady Noemi," he smiled, something he had not since finding the treasure room but it felt like he could find it so easily with her around. "I know," he told her, briefly looking at its chained form. Somehow he knew it wasn't for him, it would not budge for him at all. And he had felt it.

"I was simply paying my respects to our great knight." Despite the accusations being thrown around about him, he had still been a great man to Milo.