Bound by Blade and Fate [Lansoni]

The night was quiet—too quiet. Even the wind that usually swept through Camelot’s towers seemed to hold its breath. Sonic and Lancelot stood on the castle’s balcony, looking out over the kingdom. The moon bathed the land in silver light, but something about the scene felt… wrong.

Sonic leaned against the stone railing, arms crossed. “So,” he started, glancing at Lancelot, “you gonna tell me what’s really going on, or are we just gonna stare at the scenery all night?”

Lancelot exhaled slowly. “I have already told you what I know,” he said, his voice low. “The kingdom is at peace, yet I cannot shake this feeling of unease.”

Sonic raised an eyebrow. “Unease, huh?” He tapped his foot. “You’re always uneasy. But this is different, isn’t it?”

Lancelot hesitated. His crimson eyes flickered to Sonic’s, and for a moment, something almost vulnerable passed through them.

“…Yes,” he admitted. “It is.”

Sonic’s teasing smirk softened. He’d seen Lancelot serious before—way too serious—but this was the first time he’d seen him uncertain. It wasn’t just about the kingdom.

It was about him.

Before Sonic could press further, a gust of wind swept through the balcony, chilling the air. A strange energy crackled in the distance, faint but undeniable. Lancelot’s hand immediately went to the hilt of Arondight.

“You felt that, right?” Sonic asked, eyes narrowing.

Lancelot nodded. “We are not alone.”

Without hesitation, the two bolted from the balcony and into the castle halls, their footsteps echoing through the stone corridors. The torches lining the walls flickered, dimming as if some unseen force was draining the light from them.

Then, they heard it.

A whisper—soft, distant, unnatural.

Sonic’s fur bristled. “Okay, that’s creepy.”

Lancelot didn’t respond. He was already moving, following the sound with sharp, precise movements. Sonic kept pace beside him, adrenaline beginning to pulse in his veins.

The whispers grew louder as they neared the great hall. The grand doors, once shut tight, now stood slightly ajar. A thin mist crept along the floor, curling like ghostly fingers.

Sonic exchanged a glance with Lancelot. “You ready for this?”

Lancelot drew Arondight in a smooth motion. “Always.”

With a push, Sonic shoved the doors open.

The great hall was empty—but the air was thick with tension. The torches along the walls burned with a strange, eerie glow. At the center of the room, swirling shadows pooled together, shifting and writhing like a living thing.

Then, a voice—cold and distant—whispered through the chamber.

"The king has returned… and so has his fate."

Sonic felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “Okay, now I know this isn’t just your usual paranoia.”

Lancelot stepped forward, his sword gleaming in the dim light. “Reveal yourself,” he commanded, his voice steady.

The shadows twisted, forming a vague, shifting figure. It had no true shape—just a mass of darkness with glowing, hollow eyes.

"Camelot’s peace is an illusion," the voice murmured. "And you, knight of the shadows… will soon know where your true loyalty lies."

Lancelot stiffened. Sonic saw his grip tighten on Arondight, his breath hitch—just for a second.

“Lancelot?” Sonic stepped closer.

Lancelot didn’t respond. He was frozen, staring at the entity with something dangerously close to recognition.

The shadowy figure twisted, turning its hollow gaze toward Sonic.

"The king walks a path unknown to him. But soon… he will understand."

Then, with a final whisper, the figure dissolved into smoke, vanishing as if it had never been there. The torches flared, returning to normal, and the mist on the floor faded.

Silence fell over the hall.

Sonic exhaled, running a hand through his quills. “Well. That was… something.”

Lancelot remained silent, his eyes still locked on the space where the entity had been.

Sonic frowned, stepping in front of him. “Okay, now you really need to tell me what’s going on.”

Lancelot’s gaze flickered to him, his expression unreadable. Then, quietly, he said:

“…I have seen that presence before.”

Sonic’s breath caught. “Wait—what?”

Lancelot hesitated, then turned away, his voice dropping lower.

“I did not speak of it before. I thought it was only a memory… a nightmare.” His grip on Arondight tightened. “But I was wrong.”

Sonic’s heart pounded. Something bigger was happening here—something tied to Lancelot’s past, and maybe even his own.

One thing was clear: whatever this was, they were in it together.

And Sonic was not going to let Lancelot face it alone.