#dobable

He took a step forward and the palace started crumbling. "No... No no no no no!" Ogrim started to move towards it, making it halfway before the palace collapsed entirely. The bridge snapped and threw him headfirst into rocks above. He was out in a moment.

Slowly coming to, Ogrim sat up. His armor was dirty and stained. It was white just a moment ago... The palace grounds were empty, dark, and the place felt haunted. Ogrim stood, walking out. Where did the stairs go? There was just a drop down opposite to the stagways. The stagways--What of them? He turns, walks all the way to the stagway, only to find it dusty and vacant.

Voices echoed down the tunnel. Survivors, maybe? "Get him up." "Are you sure that's a good--" "You heard me, don't question me. Get him up."

A bright light shined right in ogrim's face. He sat up. There are brass walls with green light illuminating them faintly, but a main overhead light kept things from being dark. His armor was missing, so his blue fluff showed and the dark shell on his back. A dazed state required so much attention to process surroundings that he didn't realize people were talking to him.

Monomon tapped the bug's shoulder. "Ogrim, are you there?"

The touch startled him and snapped the bug back to reality. "Oh- Uh. Yes. I'm here." 'Here' must be the archives. He was in a medical bed and across from Monomon was Quirrel.

"You appear to have had another dream. Would you describe it please?" Monomon spoke, soft as ever.

Ogrim's face felt dry. Had he been crying? Focus, wonder later. "The palace was empty and it crumbled. I hit my head and woke up to find no rubble or life, just an empty stagway with people talking far down the stagway. It was dusty and abandoned."

"Hhmm.. This one appears to be the most often reoccurring." Quirrel mumbled, to which Monomon nodded in reply.

That's right...

Ogrim was here because of these strange, almost fever, dreams. The king sent him here after he's screamed bloody murder a few times. The dreams he'd been having.. They were so familiar, even before repeating. It felt too real for comfort...

Monomon left Ogrim be to sit and wonder while she and Quirrel went to talk.

By the gods he was tired. You'd think after waking up; he'd be rested, but he only felt exhausted. The beetle flops back down and finds sleep isn't hard to get.

Next to the King was the Queen's throne. She was the more outwardly sympathetic of the two. Unfortunately at this time, she was elsewhere.

"Ogrim." The king addressed without the pretense "Loyal".

Ogrim hesitantly took a step forward, kneeling. "My King... If I may--"

"No." The king said, overwhelmingly strong but without emotion or high volume. The dread in the air was enough to kill a bug. "You may not. You remember what I told you."

"Yes, my King...

"Tell me what I told you. Loud enough for everyone."

The defender stammered a bit quietly. "Y-You told--"

"You're quiet. Speak up."

The other Knights of the court could almost feel Ogrim's pain and deeply sympathized. With a soft breath drawn in, Ogrim spoke for all around to hear. "You told me that being with Isma was unwise and it was her or my place here, My king..."

"And you've made your choice." Pale said, shifting on the throne a bit, straightening himself. "In all your years you have been loyal to me. Down to the letter, even, but this act is unacceptable no matter your reputation. Ogrim, for your actions against this court and its order, leave. Leave the palace and never return."

Isma, fueles by disbelief, shock, and high emotions, retalliated a bit. "It was just one act, you can't just--" Before she could finish, she was cut off.

"You are leaving as well. You were a willing participant in this and I will not let it continue here. Take yourself and your child out. The guard is no longer a job you can preform in any way. For your own safety, I must send you away."

Isma couldn't believe this all. She... She started to cry. Ogrim came and picked her up carefully, comforting her before the two left.

"Now, onto assignments.

Dryya and Hegemol were both infurated by these acts they whitnessed, but refused to testify.

"A place in the palace and enlightenment." The king responds.

Enlightenment was such a terrible word. There could be so many meanings when talking about the king.

That is what these dreams are.

"Enlightenment."

    His mask was cracked thoroughly in places, leaking soul and void, missing shards of horn, his head ached in pain. His body was partly crushed from the weight of the vessels. How did he end up so far down? This he could only wonder as he looked up, seeing a light far, far up and out of the Abyss.

    Being too tired to fly, he instead scaled the wall with five limbs in tact, one damaged severely, and a few limbs weakened. Slowly, crawling up the wall, he reached the exit. Part of his body hung over the edge as he lied there and panted from the exhaustion of climbing that all the way with his wounds still leaking. How much longer would he stay awake like this? Already the tiredness was setting in.

    I won’t die here.

    The king manages to get himself upright and proceed into the Ancient basin, robbing Shadow Creepers of their Soul as he passed them. It got to the point he could start healing himself. Focusing, Soul drifted about and into his cracks and wounds, sealing them and reforming the horn pieces that were broken.