The Knights of the Firmament

Zenith took a deep breath, feeling the Levia cycle through his body. Though his core pulsed with light as ever, it felt dim as a distant star within the vast spread of Astraeon's cosmos. 

Had Prince Darian's Levia ever been like this? Even when he had first sworn himself to her, he couldn't remember feeling overwhelmed. Only calm and complete, for he had finally found the purpose of his existence.

Clenching his teeth, Zenith shoved aside these maudlin thoughts. He had been mistaken then. Now he was serving his true liege, the one worthy of him. Over time, he would become accustomed to Astraeon's power. And as he was Darian's father, it only made sense for his Levia to be stronger.

When a gentle clank reached his ears, Zenith realized the elevator had come to a stop. Feathers rustling, Cyrias stepped out of the open doors before casting an expectant glance over his shoulder. 

Embarrassed, Zenith hurried after him. After he had sworn his loyalty to Astraeon, Cyrias had asked him to come along. So Zenith did, though he had no idea where they were going. 

Now they emerged onto a mezzanine overlooking a circular chamber. As Cyrias strode forward, his wings unfurled with a quiet whoosh of air. As always, watching them spread to their full span sent a curious ache through Zenith's chest.

Annoyed with himself, Zenith tore his gaze away. Just then, he became aware of the sounds drifting from below: clashing metal, rough breathing. Like...fighting?

As quick as he could, he crossed the narrow mezzanine and leaned over the railing. A marble floor stretched below, inlaid with the same golden designs that adorned the rest of the workshop.

But it wasn't the floor that captured Zenith's attention. No, it was the two armored figures darting and weaving across it. With every moment, their capes swirled like banners in the wind.

Flashes of gold glinted from the capes. These were lines, Zenith realized, weaving together to form intricate sunburst designs. Very much like the one on his own cape....

His breath caught. Gripping the railing, Zenith watched the fighters with razor focus. 

The smaller one sidestepped her opponent's broadsword, raven hair and violet cape sweeping an arc in her wake. Undeterred, the opponent thrust the sword with surprising speed for his size, but the woman flung up her shield and it glanced off with a shower of sparks.

The impact drove the woman back several steps, and the man seized the chance to lunge at her, forest green cape flaring behind him. The woman spun out of the way in the nick of time before bringing up her own sword. The blades struck with a clang that echoed through the chamber. 

The fighters struggled against each other, locked blades trembling. Then they broke apart and began circling, each hunting for an opening.

Their precise movements, the wary distance they kept from each other, struck a chord deep within Zenith's core. He recognized it all too well, didn't he? 

In a blink, the woman charged. As she attacked with a blinding flurry of slashes, forcing her opponent to defend with his shield, Zenith saw more and more of himself in their moves. The woman's swift swordplay, yes, but also the man's unflinching response to the onslaught. 

Both fighters – no, knights – were skilled, but when the woman succeeded in knocking the man to the floor, the outcome hardly surprised Zenith. While the man held the strength advantage, his opponent made up for it with speed and dexterity. And judging by the way she fought, stern and disciplined without wasting a single movement, she outstripped him in experience as well.

As she pointed her sword at the man's throat, he exhaled deeply and sagged onto his elbows. "Yield," he muttered.

Nodding solemnly, the woman sheathed her blade. She bent down, hand extended, and the man clasped it and let her help him to his feet. His relaxed posture betrayed no resentment – as was only proper for a knight.

"Well done!" When Cyrias clapped his hands, Zenith felt like a spell had broken. The two knights whipped toward the mezzanine, wearing identical startled expressions.

And they weren't alone. For the first time, Zenith noticed other armored figures across the chamber. He had been so absorbed in the fight he had completely missed their presence.

"Well done indeed," Cyrias said brightly, leaping onto the railing. "Congratulations on your victory, Sir Azimuth. Not that you made it easy, of course, Sir Horizon. Just as expected from both of you."

The man nodded, and the woman said, "Thank you, Master." But then her gaze slid away from Cyrias and landed on Zenith.

The instant their eyes met, a jolt shuddered through Zenith's core. Before he could figure out what it meant, Cyrias flashed him a crooked grin and took off with a great flap of his wings. 

As he drifted to the floor, Zenith realized what he wanted and climbed up onto the railing as well. Even without wings, he made the jump with ease.

In contrast to Cyrias's soundless landing, he hit the floor with a resounding crash of armor. The impact shuddered through his muscles, but it took no effort to pull himself upright and face the other knights.

"I'd like to introduce you," Cyrias said, sweeping his hand at Zenith. "Sir Zenith, these are the Knights of the Firmament. They're homunculi like you, crafted to serve as protectors of Miria."

Now he turned his smile upon the others. "And as I'm sure you've already realized, this is Sir Zenith. My first knight, returned at last."

As the knights gazed at him in open awe, an uncomfortable knot twisted in Zenith's chest. He had little experience being regarded in such a manner, especially when he had done nothing to deserve it.

"It can't be." The purple-caped knight – Sir Azimuth? – stepped forward. Her voice was hushed, trembling, and her eyes glimmered disturbingly bright. Against his will, Zenith remembered eyes that often looked at him in much the same way, only they were warm brown, not deep violet....

Trying to banish the memories, Zenith forced himself to focus on Sir Azimuth's words. "Master has told us so much about you. All this time, we've awaited your return. Our leader."

"Leader?" Zenith blurted. His voice came out too loud, echoing around the chamber, and he cursed himself inside. But none of the knights seemed bothered, nor did Cyrias.

"That's right. As my first knight, it's only natural you serve as their leader, isn't it?" Cyrias said, smiling warmly. "But first, why don't you all introduce yourselves?"

"Yes, Master." Azimuth shot to swift attention. Up close, Zenith saw that she almost matched him in height. "I am Sir Azimuth. It truly is an honor, Sir Zenith."

"Sir Horizon," said the green-caped knight, his low voice rumbling in Zenith's bones.

"My name's Sir Solstice," declared a young man with messy white hair, thumping his chest. His cape was also white at the top, but faded into gold at the bottom. "Nice to have a new face around here. I've gotten bored just fighting these guys."

The youth next to him sighed loudly. He could have been Solstice's twin, only his hair was bright red and his cape orange fading to scarlet. Nodding at Zenith, he said, "I am Sir Equinox. Kindly ignore everything that comes out of Sir Solstice's mouth."

"Hey!" Solstice sputtered. 

"Quiet, you two," Azimuth snapped, stepping between them. "Please do forgive their behavior, Sir Zenith."

Before Zenith could reply, the final knight cleared her throat. She was tiny, barely reaching the middle of Zenith's chest, and her silver hair was cut in a severe bob. Fixing Zenith with eyes the same midnight blue as her cape, she said, "I'm Sir Meridian. The newest of the knights, so I suppose that makes me the opposite of you. I expect I have much to learn from the prototype himself."

"Wonderful, everyone." Cyrias turned toward Zenith with glittering eyes. "So? What do you think about leading them?"

What did he think? Zenith swept his gaze from knight to knight, taking in their eager faces. Their personalities couldn't be more different, but the way they moved was so familiar it hurt. And if he concentrated, he could feel the Levia thrumming within their bodies – just as bright and clear as his own.

Until this moment, he could never have imagined it. For years he had wandered the wasteland, convinced he was alone. Even after joining the crew of the Blue Sky, he stood apart from the others simply by virtue of what he was. A being that had been made instead of born, that did not eat or bleed or become tired or age.

He had thought he was fine with that, so long as he had his liege and wizard. But now...now....

Theo and Darian were long gone. But the Knights of the Firmament were here, as was Cyrias. His creator...no, their creator.

Don't you want to come home? Cyrias had asked. At the time, Zenith hadn't understood. Now, he felt he might have the slightest inkling.

So he pushed his remaining doubts as far away as possible, imagining them drifting away like dust in the wind. When he spoke, his voice came out relievingly clear and firm.

"It's good to meet all of you. I am honored to accept the position of your leader."