The Sword of Truth

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It was all the Dark Knight could do to keep his teeth from chattering. The chill mountain air was thick with a dense fog that soaked into his skin, making every movement of the wind like torture. The only sounds were the crunch and clatter of his horse’s hooves and his own labored breathing.

He could feel that he was drawing near to his destination, yet he could see nothing but dull gray fog and the gnarled and vicious shadows of long dead trees.

He steeled his wits and warily urged his steed onward. He knew what was to come, and it unnerved him. The prospect of death had never bothered him. He had faced it many times before, but this was something different. After today, everything would change. After today, the whole world would tremble. For the first time in his life, he was uncertain. Decades of struggle and planning were culminating into this one moment, this one action. He should have been excited, but for some reason was unable to shake his sense of foreboding.

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