Member-only story
57 to 1
A single star rises and pierces the darkness. Spider webs cocooning the great forest dissipate like smoke under the touch of the star’s illumination.
With the light comes a rider, bold and proud in his saddle, one hand holding a battle-worn stave, the other outstretched, palm open and turned up, a battered steel circlet around his head. The star rises in union with his nearing the forest, like a balloon tethered to his back by a very long string.
In the city in the forest, people pour out from their houses cheering, squinting in the light after 57 years of darkness.
The rider keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead. He bows his head humble to the people he champions.
He rides to the beach at the far end of the city, to the golden queen sitting on a throne before the ocean. Waves crash and smooth around her feet.
The man dismounts and walks towards her. His body shudders with emotion. He has seen many things searching for the star in the long dark. Things no person should ever see. This is the price he’s paid for the people — for the honor of calling himself their champion.
He stops a few feet from her, gets down on his knee, and bows. His expression belies no suffering, regret, or fear. He is a man prepared to die well (which is the only true man there is or ever was).
