Arthur remembered...
It all started to come together like pieces of a puzzle he didn't know he was trying to solve. Memories flooded his mind with such force that he felt physically pushed back against the temple wall. Each recollection slammed into him with devastating clarity, overwhelming his senses until he could barely breathe.
'What is this?'
The images grew sharper by the second, as though a fog was lifting from his mind. He saw himself waking in the middle of the night to the feeling of a hand clasped firmly over his mouth and the sensation of something dry and bitter sliding down his throat. His eyes had flown open in shock, but the face hovering above him had been blurry, distorted by the darkness.
"Shh, it's okay... everything is gonna be okay."
The words echoed through the chambers of his memory, soft yet menacing in their false comfort. Terror had flooded his mind, followed by confusion as the hand left his mouth. Something had fallen from that palm—petals, he realized now. Petals from one of the dead roses in the field, their ashen gray color visible even in the dim moonlight. The same hand had then repositioned itself against the side of Arthur's head, pressing firmly against his temple.
"Sleep now."
Such simple words, yet they had carried a weight beyond their meaning. The face above him had suddenly become clear in that moment, the features sharpening into a familiar visage that Arthur had trusted implicitly.
'Why?'
Arthur remained curled up against the cold stone, trembling as more memories surfaced. This hadn't happened just once—it had happened night after night. The same words spoken, the same actions performed, the same ritual repeated with methodical precision. And each morning, he would wake with no recollection of the previous day or the violation that had occurred in the darkness.
The temple, which had seemed like a sanctuary, a safe haven amidst the dangers of this realm, now felt like a prison with invisible walls, once comforting in their solidity, now seemed to close in around him, witnesses to a betrayal he was only beginning to understand.
Between the overwhelming sensations flooding his brain and the shock of what he'd seen, Arthur's stomach rebelled. He turned to the side, retching violently as his body tried to purge the horror of his discoveries. The bitter taste of bile filled his mouth, adding physical discomfort to his emotional turmoil. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he caught his breath, his face contorted in disbelief and betrayal as he uttered a single word.
"Luke."
It had been Luke all along. His friend—his only friend in all the realms—had been waking him in the middle of the night and forcefully feeding him the roses. Somehow, Arthur would wake the next day with no memory, no understanding of what had happened. This had been going on for two weeks, until today. Until this moment when the spell—or whatever it was—had finally broken.
'But why? It doesn't make sense... why would Luke do it?'
Perhaps Luke had his own reasons, his own agenda that Arthur couldn't begin to fathom.
'No, no. I don't know anything for sure. I don't even know if these memories are real or implanted illusions from some insidious beast in this treacherous realm. First, I need to confirm before I do anything else.'
Arthur clenched his fists so hard his uncut nails pierced the skin of his palms, tiny crescents of pain that helped anchor him to reality. He gritted his teeth at the thought of losing his friend to corruption, to the malevolent influence of this world they'd been trapped in. But he wasn't one hundred percent sure. There was still a chance that his memories were false, that his mind was playing tricks on him.
He had to be positive before he acted.
With that resolution firmly in mind, Arthur spent time collecting himself as best he could. He wiped away the evidence of his sickness. He took several deep breaths to steady his racing heart, forcing each exhale to be slow and controlled despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Finally, he forced his expression into something resembling normalcy—not too relaxed, but not revealing the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Then he walked around the temple, his footsteps deliberately heavy enough for Luke to hear his approach.
As he appeared on the other side, Luke immediately stood up, concern etched across his features. "You okay?"
Arthur flinched involuntarily at the sound of his voice—a voice that had offered comfort and companionship before, but now carried unspoken threats. He took another deep breath, forcing composure. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just feeling a little sick. I think we should spend one more night here."
A smile spread across Luke's face, warm and seemingly genuine—a smile that made Arthur's heart ache with confusion. Had he imagined the whole thing? Could those memories be false? The smile seemed so real, so like the Luke he had come to know.
"Yeah, sounds good. Come on, sit down." Luke gestured to the spot next to him as he sat back down against the temple wall, patting the stone in a friendly invitation.
Arthur hesitated for a moment, every instinct screaming at him to keep his distance, to confront Luke with the truth of what he'd discovered. But no—he needed to be certain. He needed proof beyond the fragments of memory that had returned to him. So he took up the spot beside Luke, their shoulders nearly touching as they had countless times before, though now the proximity made Arthur's skin crawl with apprehension.
The day passed slowly, the two of them talking as the sun made its journey across the sky. Luke shared stories of his home, of the life he'd had before being transported to this realm—stories Arthur had heard before but now listened to with new ears, searching for inconsistencies, for clues to Luke's true nature or intentions.
Arthur wasn't as talkative or responsive as on previous days, his mind racing with possibilities, theories, and plans. He measured each word carefully, afraid of revealing too much, of tipping his hand too soon. Fortunately, Luke didn't seem bothered by Arthur's subdued behavior, apparently attributing it to his supposed illness.
As daylight faded and darkness crept across the land, the moon took its place in the night sky, casting an ethereal silver glow over the temple and the field of dead roses surrounding it. The temperature dropped, and a chill breeze swept through the open sides of the temple, causing both young men to huddle closer together.
Arthur leaned against the wall after saying goodnight to Luke, closing his eyes as he had for the fourteenth night in a row.
Only this time, he wasn't really asleep.
His senses were heightened, his body tense with anticipation beneath the façade of slumber. Every sound—the rustling of the rose petals in the night breeze, Luke's measured breathing beside him—registered with crystal clarity. He kept his breathing deep and even, mimicking the rhythms of sleep while his heart hammered in his chest.
He waited, counting the minutes in his head, feigning the deep, even breaths of sleep while his heart hammered in his chest.
And he wondered 'What will I do if it's true? What will I do when he comes for me tonight?'
The answer eluded him, lost in the tumult of betrayal and confusion. But he knew one thing with certainty—if Luke approached him in the night, if he tried once more to feed him those cursed rose petals, Arthur would finally have his proof. And then he would act, though what form that action would take remained to be seen.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly as Arthur waited in the darkness, every muscle coiled tight like a spring, ready to react at the first sign of movement from his supposed friend.