OOC: Thank you all for the positive feedback on my last chapter 3 It really keeps me going. I hope you will enjoy this chapter as well!

Chapter 6 – Mea Culpa

Thousands of little bodies falling from above.

They were not the first ones. The ground below was littered with bony remains of their predecessors. Many would not make it all the way down, hitting slabs of rock or getting impaled on spikes protruding through the walls. Some would strike the ground and get pierced by the horns of the many skulls. Others would fall on top of their dead brethren, and live, at least for the moment. It was a dark place, where none would see their suffering. With sharp, white protrusions from every possible surface. A black fog fuming at the bottom. In that darkness, the bones rattled, disturbed by the frantic struggling or caught in the wind which blew through the chasms and piles of discarded bodies.

There was only one way out of here – to the top, where the pale light called to those below like beacon of hope… or a lure. But only one was meant to reach it. A twisted contest to become the chosen one. And so, the group of shadows would begin its climb.

Some bugs did not go, and were left behind. They were trying to help the injured ones get up. Weak, faulty ones. Their compassion doomed both themselves and those they tried to carry on their shoulders. The path ahead had no mercy for them. A few managed to step over themselves and walk upon the bones of their fallen brethren, but were too timid to face the traps. They paused in front of each spiked wall, each obstacle, before making a jump. Cowardly ones. Hesitation meant death. And so they died, either pushed by others who would dare the jump, or losing heart and falling, at the very last moment. They did not scream, but writhed in pain, suffering in silence.

The rest climbed on. Each floor, each trap, each step was claiming lives. One by one, the bugs fell, but continued their grim march to the top. The abyss would weed out the weak, the infirm, the imperfect. All for the sake of creating the One. Among these survivors, some stood out. When others died on the spikes, they would walk upon them, to get further. They would grab the sharp stones with their very hands, bleeding, in order to not fall down. Pain was ephemeral. Pain could be shut off. Failure was real. And there was only one chance.

In the end, only two remained. Equals, both in ability, and will to live. The platforms trembled and collapsed under their feet as they rushed up, towards the light, sentencing others behind them to their doom. Stones and bodies fell down, consumed by darkness, as the pale light was getting closer. So bright, so enticing. It promised life, freedom, … purpose. But only for one of them.

Jump, jump, another jump. Over the spikes. Cut a leg, but it did not matter. Pain was nothing, time was of the essence. Keep up, gain ground, catch up to the one in front. But somehow, that one always remained ahead. Doing the same things, like a mirror. Even the injuries were the same. Somehow, somewhere, it gained a few seconds, and refused to surrender them! Did it land closer, or was it a miscalculation on the Second's part? Mattered not. The First one was going to win, and reach the light and freedom. All others were sentenced to perish in this dark closet of bones.

There is no second place… I cannot… I WILL NOT!

At that very moment, a spark of thought went through the Second's head. A hand shot forward, and grabbed the First's cape, just as it was about to make a jump. Slowing down the leap, reducing momentum. A piece of cloth remained in the Second's hand. It was enough. The First did not make it to the other platform. Their hand scraped against the stone, before it too fell down, into the gaping maw of the void.

The Second now became the First. It stared down, watching its brother consumed by darkness below, holding the piece of cloth in hand, before dropping it. No time to waste! The light was so near! It climbed. Slowly, painfully, arduously. To the top. Pulling itself up and over, the new First gazed upon the pale being. Tall and imposing, it looked. With an air of power and regality about itself. And so… bright. It was hard to keep one's eyes on the being for too long. The tiny bug kneeled before its Majesty.

"Rise, young one." – the King commanded, and the Knight obeyed. "After all these fruitless attempts… pointless sacrifices… finally. You are the One, my child."

The voice sounded both satisfied… and so incredibly tired. Like thousands of sleepless years were held upon the white one's shoulders. The Knight nodded, and followed, through the door, when suddenly hearing the clawing and scraping from behind. Briefly turning, it recognized the horn shape. The former First, was making it here, too… Somehow. But it was too late. The doors were shut, fates of those inside sealed forever.

There is no second place…

The tall knight woke up, opening its only eye, and sitting up briskly on the small bed. Once more, it was back at Iselda's comfy hut, among the countless mapping supplies, brushes, quills, and boxes stacked on one another. It was a dream. And yet it felt so… With a silent groan, the bug would stand up and shamble towards the small sink, with a mirror on the wall up in front. Pouring some water into its only hand, and dousing the mask with water. Looking up at itself in the mirror.

The reflection looked back. Such a pitiful image. Mask cracked in several places; one eye covered in bandages still. It was unlikely to recover. That face… so very familiar. Staring at it, the Knight ran its hand across one of the horns, feeling the protrusions. They were so much like of that little bug from the dream… The one that won. The mirror image blurred, becoming indiscernible. Some of the water got into the mask. The creature brushed it off. When it did, the reflection became clear again.

The eyepatch was gone.

The Knight's only eye widened, as it reached up to feel it. No, it was still there. But the mirror image remained motionless. Silent, glaring, judging, with a gaze hidden in the darkness of the eyeholes of its passionless mask. The bug felt burning in its chest again, and in its mind. It could not withstand the baleful stare. Closing its only eye and shuddering, the Knight reached up and turned the mirror to face the wall instead. Shaking its head, the creature pooled some water from the bottom of the sink.

It was nothing… - the creature thought, washing its face again. But looking into the water still there, one could still see the reflection of oneself. It didn't change. The same baleful stare drilled into the Knight's skull. The creature slapped at the water, before backing away, knocking off a few boxes in the process. Looking away, trying to find a place for its only eye. The baleful Knight stared at it from everywhere. From the windows, and from the reflections in the polished glass. Trapping the creature, and looking at it, silently judging. The Knight looked left, right, feeling terror build up in its throat, as its only eye frantically looked for a means of escaping. The retreat continued until its back met a wall, and the tall bug slid down it, onto the floor.

My sword…

It was right there, placed against the opposite wall, shining and shimmering in the dim light of a lamppost outside. Its surface still nicked; blade dull. But the Knight took some care of it since. But it would offer no comfort, no solace. For on its polished and oiled surface, stood a reflection, of that same, judging knight. Suddenly, the creature felt itself shrinking, as the sword grew, the reflection in it growing larger and larger. Towering, intimidating, enough to crush one underneath. The crippled Knight's eye spasmed and twitched, as it could see the imposing figure fall upon itself, as if a column collapsing and threatening to bury all under the rubble.

Wait! Wait!

Its only arm stretched forward, in an attempt to shield oneself from impact, as the sounds of stone and rubble collapsing filled its ears.

But nothing happened after.

No blunt pain, no crushing damage, no choking dust, no nothing. For a few long minutes, the Knight just sat there, in the corner, hand around its only eye, too frightened to look up and see. When it eventually did, everything was… normal. The reflections were gone, the room did not feel as small as before. The baleful gazes were gone as well. The bug stood up, and sheepishly approached the mirror, turning it back to see oneself. The image was that of itself, with all of its injuries and imperfections. The crippled Knight was … alone. On shaky legs, the bug would walk to the front of the house. How come nobody heard or seen anything? The place was… empty. Strange, Iselda usually opened up at this hour. But the place in front of the counter was empty. On it, there was a pinned note. Curious, the creature took the piece of paper, and read it to itself:

"Finally decided to take up Cornifer on that mapping field trip of his. Please, watch the shop for us while we are gone. It is not difficult – the list of prices is under the counter. Help yourself to anything you might need. Will be back in a few days!

Yours, Iselda and Corny!"