Sherry was more than happy to take a few hours and get some sleep. Things had been horrendous, and some time away from all of it would be for the best. So, it was with forced thoughts of peace and relaxation that she lay down that evening, telling herself not to dwell.

*
She rode, the wind whipping by as her charger thundered over the hill. The horse was strong, built for battle, and nicer than any beast she had ever seen before. It was as she looked down at the horse that she noticed her armor. It was good armor. Well crafted, with hints of ornament here and there. It was hard, for some reason, to tell what color it was, but it did glint and shine with the strange light that seemed to come from everywhere.

It was odd, like a sunset, but when she looked to the horizon she could see no sun.

She wonders briefly where they are going, and it is they because she is not the only rider there is. They ride on.

It was longer, but it seemed like only a blink later she was climbing off of her horse and walking into a tent.

It had been a long ride, she knew that. She was tired and sore and the armor was heavy when it was over. “Are you ready?” The voice came from a man whose face was hidden behind a helmet.

“I…I am.” Of course she was. She was one of the Great Knights. They were always ready. “But,” she said, as something seemed to tug at her heart, “What am I ready for?”

The man in the helmet cocked his head to the side, as if asking her a question.

“I don’t know what we are fighting,” Sherry said, suddenly feeling very lost and confused. “Who we are fighting, or where we are.”

“But this is Camelot,” the other knight said. “And the enemy is here.”

She looked around them, only mildly surprised to see there was no tent. They were in the courtyard of the castle.

Sherry shook her head. Her sword felt heavy in her hand. “But who is the enemy. I need to know that before I can decide whether or not to fight them.”

“It makes no difference.” A new voice, from the shadows, accompanied by the clank of armor. “They are the enemy, so we fight them. That is what we do.”

“But,” Sherry began, “how do we know for sure that they are? How….” She shook her head again. “I need to know. I need to know who I am killing before I make the decision to do so.”

The knight from the shadows stepped forward, armor rusted and dark. Blood seeped out from their helm and their gauntlets. “You fight no one. You fight yourself. You fight us.” The voice was different now, the figure stepped forward, sword out and ready. “You fight me.”

*

Sherry woke with a start, the image of a sword in weird reddish light imprinted on her mind.