They had been sent to face a monster.
The thought alone sent a heavy shudder through Kancilot's entire being. Suddenly, his will no longer seemed so sturdy. The strength in his body was waning at an alarming pace.
At first, he had strained every fiber of his being to resist the crushing weight of Atticus' overwhelming will.
But now, cracks had begun to form across the surface of his own will. At any moment, it would shatter, and he would be crushed.
Yet, King Kancilot's eyes were lifeless. There was no trace of panic in them, only shame. Death didn't scare him.
In truth, he had already died centuries ago, the day his wife and daughter were killed by the invading force.
The only reason he had endured all these years was because of Lancaster's stubborn refusal to let his king die.
If not for his old friend, Kancilot would have embraced death long ago. He would never have been given this chance to bring his family back.
