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A memory tugged at him. A familiar face. Lancelot.

"I'm just here to fight the shadows." Johan insisted, wearily propped against a stone wall. His gaze was drawn back to the Red Knight, Morgan, as he greeted and sneered equally at those who approached him. "The Red Knights will let me become stronger. So I can kill more shadows."

A hand rested on Johan's shoulder. Johan couldn't quite meet Lancelot's eyes. Why did the Great Knight have to smile it him so sadly? Like he understood the hell Johan had gone through getting here. Johan didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to feel anything anymore. It would be easier to simply be used, a weapon in the hands of the powerful. An arrow loosed at the enemy, forgotten as soon as he'd completed his purpose.

"What happened to you was terrible." Lancelot said, giving Johan's shoulder a squeeze. "I do not blame you for your decisions. I think your drive to fight back is admirable. We in the White, we do not seek to keep you from fighting, for every shadow you kill protects those around you. We do want you to remember that you are valuable."

Lancelot looked at the crowd of humans.

"Against all odds, you've made it here. Do not throw yourself away lightly."

With a hearty clap on the shoulder, Lancelot left Johan, who watched him leave with a thoughtful frown. He looked back towards the crowds. Had Lancelot meant just Johan or had he meant all those who'd made it here? It was incredible that so many had survived... Deep in thought, Johan looked back to Morgan, and then, slowly, turned back to watch Lancelot.

Another memory caught his/its attention...

Johan's hand curled about the narrow stem of an intricate key. As he touched it, a sensation of cold so deep it burned overtook him. He was transported to another place.

He was climbing the mountain. Bitter winds howled at him, wanting to tear him from the cliff face and out into empty air. The rocks he clung to sapped heat from him, the mountain as greedy for his life as the wind. Wrapped in furs, his existence narrowed to the next hand and foot hold. There was a platform up there. His goal. If he could only reach it. He could rest. His limbs were heavy. They didn't react to his commands quickly anymore. Each movement was deliberate and exhaustively monitored. He had to concentrate.

Another gust of wind slammed him first into the cliff, and then tried to tear him away from it. One hand slipped. Sensing the beginning of his fall, Johan desperately jumped upward, other hand questing...

He caught the edge! Dangling for a moment, he felt every fibre of his body quiver from exhaustion. Finally, more from will than strength, he moved his body, dragged the other arm up, pulled himself towards his goal. He rolled onto the ledge, finally safe from the fall. After a moment, he sat up, and saw the next leg of his climb before him. Even more sheer than the last. He made to stand, but couldn't get his legs to respond.

Well then. He would rest. It was cold, and he was so tired. Johan drew the furs more tightly about himself, huddled into himself, and closed his eyes.

Just a few minutes...

Another memory called to him with a giggle.

He was waist deep in the Lake, taking advantage of the quiet to wash himself after cleaning his armor. Out across the lake, one little light was still singing about chickens. It was a bit disconcerting to be so close to so many Sidhe. They didn't seem malevolent, just excitable and a bit annoying. As he lowered his face below the surface, scrubbing at the dirt in his hair, he felt something land on his back. Sputtering, he immediately stood up, only to hear giggling behind him. He turned around, but there was nothing there. More giggling at his back. Catching on, he looked over his shoulder. Another light was hovering there. Upon being discovered it flitted in front of him.

"Would you like to hear a story?" it asked him. Raising an eyebrow, Johan wondered why these sprites seemed so keen on telling stories.

"Are you bored of telling the other sprites stories?" he asked.

The light flew in a small loop.

"We've already heard each other's stories." it replied, and fluttered close to his face. "We like seeing you humans react to them!"

Though uncertain, Johan didn't think these little sprites counted as the darkness. They were different than those he'd encountered at Camelot. Guardedly, he nodded his assent. The sprite let out a happy giggle, and launched into its story. Johan listened as he continued to wash. It was almost... peaceful.


A darker blur engulfed him.

It played out before him... The rumors, the preparations, the headlong flight. Loss, betrayal, pain. The night after his Mother had ridden off with the shadows, Johan was huddled under the boughs of a tree. He couldn't risk a fire, fearful that the darkness would find him. Every small sound of the forest grated against him, making him flinch and jump. Shadows loomed everywhere, and he was certain that any moment something would jump at him.

Two weeks later. Another tree, another night spent cold and alone save for Fee's presence near him. Exhausted from lack of sleep and the constant travel, Johan sat, arms around knees. His eyes rested dully on his katana. He should be keeping an eye out for monsters, but... He found he couldn't bring himself to care. Too many nights spent in terror. He just wanted it to end. He stared at the katana and contemplated killing himself. At least he could deny the monsters the satisfaction...

Shaking, he reached for it, and drew the blade. The metal reflected what little light came from the moon and stars, and Johan realized he could see himself in the blade. It didn't look like himself. His eyes were deep in shadow, like the darkness had taken root there and peered out at him. It was such a contrast to his memories of living with his family. He remembered smiling. He remembered having a reason to smile. To feel proud. Loved. Johan tried smiling, pulling back the corners of his mouth. It turned into a mocking leer in his reflection.

He felt a spark of anger, and slammed the blade back into his scabbard. No. He would not kill himself. That's what the darkness wanted, and if there was any part of Johan that could desire anything anymore, he wished to deny the Darkness everything he could. He would live. He would fight the shadows and made sure they rued the day they'd come to this land.

A last memory reached out to him.

"Bow!"

Johan did as instructed, arms at his side, and bending cleanly at the waist towards Yoshizawa. As he rose, he flowed smoothly into a ready stance, stave raised, feet planted, center of gravity balanced. Yoshizawa did the same, eyeing Johan's positioning. Seemingly satisfied, he advanced. Johan did as well, and the clack of meeting staves rang through the courtyard.

As he did his best to guess and counter Yoshizawa's moves, Johan's thoughts drifted to the announcement that had been made in the town square. Camelot was accepting new Knights! You didn't even need to be part of the nobility. The news had filled the taverns with ambitious talk at night.

Yoshizawa's stave thumped into Johan's side, and all thoughts of gallantly riding across the countryside were shattered into a large lump of pain. Wheezing, Johan dropped his stave. He retained enough self control to return the bow Yoshizawa gave him. His mentor didn't look too happy.

"On the battlefield, if your mind wanders off, it will often find that there's no body to return to, Johan."

"I, oof, apologize, sir." Johan wheezed, using the stave to prop himself upright. Yoshizawa sighed.

"I am going to assume you've been daydreaming about the same thing every other young man and woman has been dreaming about lately." he stated, folding his hands behind him. "My question would be, how can you expect to act as a Knight, if an old man can catch you with a stick?"

Johan felt his cheeks coloring. He looked down at the ground. Yoshizawa walked over to him, and bent down to catch Johan's eyes.

"Show me your conviction, then. If you can hit me three times, I'll begin to teach you to use the Katana." Johan looked up, barely daring to hope. The corner of Yoshizawa's mouth twitched. "But only if you can hit me three times, mind you. If you can't... 200 basic forms every morning, every night."

Johan gulped, imagining how his muscles would burn from that punishment. But if he won... no, if he could hit his mentor three times. Taking a deep breath, Johan stepped back, and bowed to Yoshizawa.

Today. Today would be his first day on the path to become a Knight.

As the memory faded, he reached out, catching it, pulling it close to his soul, along with the others. Some cut deep, some glowed with warmth, others froze him to his core, but they were his. The confusion faded, the darkness receded. He, Johan, was a Knight! Weary from the struggle, he moved forward, hand reaching for the Blue Door.