The Knight cast a long shadow; one we all had to live in. His entire existence was by the book and his example loomed over us at all times, showing us how we should be.
Knowing we could never win favour such as he, we naturally all became massively jealous and sought to do away with Sir Perfect Pants.
But how? We knew from training (and battle, too) that he would be able to defeat us all in a sword fight.
He barely ever drank, and when he did it had no effect, so we couldn’t drink him into submission.
He was far too clever for us to ever outwit in anyway; and always he was too alert to ever be pushed down the stairs.
No, we all knew that we would have to undo him from afar, that magic would be our only course of action. And, fortunately, at that time I was seeing a witch.
We discussed the possibilities with my witch lover at great length. A favourite early contender was transformation. We particularly liked the idea of turning him into a chess piece, a knight of course, so that we could move him about at our leisure for evermore.
However, we knew that, should this Great Man disappear without trace, we would spend the rest of our years, trying to find him; and probably destroy the kingdom while doing so.
Instead, therefore, we opted to destroy him visibly. His long shadow having always been our bugbear, we decided to separate it from him once and for all. The idea seemed so delicious, we set my witch to it at once.
Some days later he went into a trance, and his own shadow did creep through the castle, the shadow of an enchanted knife in its hand, and caused the severance we desired.
Without his shadow, our champion knight quickly fell apart.
At first he was just a bit anxious and unsure of himself- in itself a massive change from his usual confidence; and soon, all too soon we felt, his mind fell apart completely. The healers killed him after a few days to put him from his misery.
His shadow, though. That remained. It disappeared entirely at first, waiting in the shadows until its former master was buried in the ground. Then it returned.
Its first victim was my witch, my lovely, kind, generous witch. The only link to our conscience and the only person who could have saved us. At once we were undone and fraying as a group.
But before the infighting started, we had already begun to fall one by one.
Sir Eric was dragged into the well, Sir Stephen got lost in the forest, Sir Gus drowned in the moat on the northern side of the castle while Sir Cuthbert simply dropped dead as the sun passed briefly behind a cloud.
Now only I am left.
I knew him the longest of all. Once we had been close. Once we had been best friends. Of all of us I was the most jealous. I was the leader of the plot, the closest mirror to Brutus.
Soon I will lock myself in my quarters having emptied it of all belongings and flooded it with light. There will only be one source and under it I shall sit, seeking to make my own shadow negligible.
For if there is no shadow, he cannot kill me. Though is there a chance that if I have no shadow I shall follow him down his path of madness. I think not, I hope not.
I do know, of course, that I cannot win. That I will only be prolonging the inevitable. For I will eventually run out of candles. And I know the last thing I shall see is his long shadow; the one I lived in and will soon die in.
Written for the Light and Shade Challenge from the following picture prompt:
