When Kaiser stepped?through the door, everything felt different. The musty silence of the house had become a damp,?biting chill, and he was suddenly standing on the edge of a dark, winding river. Mist clung to the water and it started twisting into?ghostly shapes.

  As he looked at a lone boat tumbling away from the shore, his breath stopped. It was a small, rudimentary vessel made of broken, deformed charcoal wood that seemed as if it had been carried through hell and back. A woman's body was inside, cradled in the center with her pale, delicate hands neatly folded across her chest. Her face appeared calm, almost unnaturally so, but her empty cheeks and sunken eyes revealed that she was dead.

  With his boots crunching on the sandy riverbank, Kaiser stepped forward. His entire body begged him to stop, but he was immobile and couldn't turn his head away. The pale, icy light of a crescent moon highlighted the shape of a figure standing at the river's bank. The knight's armor shone dimly, worn but polished, as if it had been used in innumerable conflicts yet was still treated with respect. The knight remained motionless, standing erect and staring at the boat as it sank deeper into the mists.

  The knight exuded a weight of hopelessness that Kaiser could feel, and there was obvious grief that soaked the air around him. The knight then turned and left without saying a word, his heavy armor plates clinking softly as he moved slowly and deliberately. Kaiser followed, driven by an instinct he didn't entirely comprehend, and honestly he didn’t feel the need to understand it. Even though his own feet were heavy and even hesitant, he kept his gaze fixed on the warrior in front of him.

  As they went, he noticed subtle changes in the surroundings. The ground beneath him changed from loose, gritted earth to smooth, polished stone as the river appeared to disappear into the distance. Unnaturally, shadows stretched and changed, bending into shapes that disappeared the moment he tried to concentrate on them, but they weren’t the main focus of Kaiser for now. Just as Kaiser was about to try and focus on the shadows around him, the knight came to a sudden halt.

  Before?them were knights, armor glowing with soft, drifting light. They were lined up in perfect formation, quiet and motionless like?statues. At the?center of the gathering was a throne, carved of black wood that glowed as if it was wet. On it was a king, his hands resting heavily on the arms,?his head bent over. The king’s countenance was one of deep sorrow,?and his expression was the semblance of torment that appeared to have been etched into his own soul.

  Kaiser’s breath?froze in his throat as understanding hit him like a physical blow. This was his king. The man to whom he had pledged his loyalty, the man whom he had followed into hundreds of battles, the?man whose life he had trusted his own with. His mind was overtaken by memories of friendship, blood-stained victories, and solemn vows made in the silence of the throne room. However, the monarch now appeared diminished and tarnished, as though the weight of his responsibility had finally worn him down.

  Slowly, methodically, and almost ceremoniously, the monarch stood. His hands trembled as he extracted a single blazing arrow from a gilded quiver by his side. The king's dejected face was covered in flickering shadows as the flame danced along arrow.

  Kaiser's eyes followed the arrow's trajectory, and when he saw that the boat was its target, his heart tightened. The dead woman, floating down the river ever so softly. As he struggled and recalled something—not a specific memory, but more a description he had heard the king give numerous times—the conclusion hit him like a hammer: This wasn't just any woman.

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  “Mother,” he whispered, the word barely audible as it slipped from his trembling lips.

  As the fiery arrow impacted the woman's body, there was a terrible hush during which the entire world held its breath. Before the explosion, there was an intolerable silence. The boat was then swallowed by a flaming vortex with a thunderous roar. Impossibly high flames swirled upward, their brightness illuminating the assembled knights in a frenzied manner. Heat caused the river's surface to ripple, warping the gloomy figures' reflections as they watched from the bank.

  The?knights, visibly losing their stoic demeanor, were rushing for the edge of the river, clearly surprised by such a large blaze sparked by a single arrow. They paused at the edge of the?flames, their faces lit by the hellish glow as they stared into the inferno. No one spoke. There was simply nothing to say.

  A newborn infant was now lying on the burned remnants of the boat, its feeble cries audible through the thick, harsh air as the flames died down and an eerie calm fell. As they gazed in the child's tiny form, the knights paused, their motions rigid with shock registering. In the child's eye, a golden arrow was stuck, and the metal glinted with terrible reminder of the present reality.

  His palm automatically moved to his face and his fingers touched the scar under his eye, his breath becoming only more and more rough. The pain was intense and pulsating, as though the scar itself was attempting to bring back memories he had long suppressed. He couldn’t look away from the scene—the crying infant, the mother, the knights frozen in a tableau of silent mourning.

  With methodical movements and an unreadable expression, the king approached the baby and gazed down at it. Kaiser, however, was no longer tethered to the present. With every heartbeat, the scar under his eye throbbed, extracting shards of recollection, each one more painful and acute than the last. He stumbled forward, reaching for the king, the man he had once trusted with his life, fueled by a need he did not entirely comprehend.

  But as his fingers touched the air, the image shattered like fragile glass. The river, the boat, the knights—all dissolved into nothingness, leaving him standing alone in the stark, silent room.

  Emotions raged in his head, pulling his thoughts back to the king, the man who had nurtured him as if he were his own son. Unexpectedly, the memories came flooding in: the demanding training sessions conducted under the king's strict but vigilant gaze, the infrequent instances of fatherly guidance that had broken the armor of authority, and the silent pride in the king's eyes when Kaiser demonstrated exceptional fighting skills.

  He had always held the king in high regard as a father and a ruler, putting all of his faith in the man's honor and intelligence. However, the picture of his mother—the warrior queen who was put to death for alleged adultery—now contaminated those recollections.

  An intolerable mixture of love, deceit, and confusion swirled inside him. He remembered the rumors that had gone around among the soldiers, the low voices that described his mother's disobedience. She had remained steadfast till the end, claiming that her child—he—was a gift from the gods themselves and that she had remained faithful. The king, however, had not trusted her. She had been condemned for her statements and her attitude.

  The weight of his past weighed down on him, making the air around him feel heavier. But he didn't hesitate. He didn't cry. Rather, he stood in the silence of the moment, breathing steadily as he dealt with this strange flood of feelings.

  Kaiser, however, quickly straightened his stance with steely will and a sorrowful heart. No matter how severely his memories had damaged him, he could not stay there. There was still more to confront and much more to discover, and his eyes suddenly landed on the door numbered "11".