The road is red. It is old red. It is the color of dried blood left in the sun. You walk it. Your boots are heavy. They are iron. They are steel. They are your bones. You walk because you must. You walk because the order is given. You walk because the law is the law. The law is a stone. You carry it.

You are a knight. You are a shield. You are a sword. You are not a man. You are a function. Your name is Edward. It is a small name. It is a soft name. It does not fit the armor. It does not fit the duty. You wear the helm. You see the world through a slit. The world is thin. The world is flat. The world is gray.

You ride with Thomas. Thomas is your ally. Thomas is your friend. Thomas is a lie. Thomas is a mirror. You see yourself in Thomas. You see the doubt in Thomas. You see the fear in Thomas. You see the love in Thomas.

"Edward," Thomas says. His voice is low. It is rough. It is like gravel. "Why do we ride?"

"You know why," you say. Your voice is metal. It is cold. It is hard. "For the King. For the Order. For the peace."

"Peace is a ghost," Thomas says. He looks at you. His eyes are bright. His eyes are wet. "We hunt ghosts, Edward. We hunt the self."

You do not answer. You look ahead. The road stretches out. It is endless. It is a line. It is a wound. It is the scar of the earth. You remember the birds. You remember the sparrows. They are gone. They are crushed. They are broken. They were the song. Now there is only silence. The silence is loud. The silence is a scream.

The castle is black. It is a tooth. It bites the sky. It is the seat of power. It is the mouth of the beast. You enter the gate. The gate is iron. The gate is cold. The gate is a jaw. You step inside. The air is thick. The air is stale. The air smells of incense and rot.

You stand before the King. The King is small. The King is old. The King is a shadow. He sits on the throne. The throne is high. The throne is far. You are small. You are dust.

"Knight," the King says. His voice is dry. It is like leaves. "You have brought the traitor."

You look at Thomas. Thomas is on his knees. Thomas is bound. Thomas is broken. Thomas is you.

"I am not a traitor," Thomas says. His voice is weak. It is a whisper. It is a prayer. "I am only a man. I am only afraid. I am only tired."

"Silence," the King says. "The law is clear. The law is the wheel. The wheel turns. It does not stop. It does not ask. It does not care."

You look at your hands. Your hands are gloved. Your hands are steel. Your hands are tools. You feel the weight. You feel the cold. You feel the truth. The truth is a stone. The stone is in your chest. The stone is in your heart. The stone is the bird. The bird is dead.

"You must execute him," the King says. He does not look at you. He looks at the floor. He looks at the past. He looks at the future. "Raise your sword. Strike true. Strike hard. Strike now."

You raise the sword. The sword is long. The sword is bright. The sword is a star. It cuts the air. It cuts the light. It cuts the time.

Thomas looks at you. His eyes are clear. His eyes are kind. His eyes are full of love. The love is primal. The love is wild. The love is the only thing that is real. The love is the bird. The bird is in his eyes. The bird is in your heart.

"Edward," Thomas says. "Do it. End it. End the wheel. End the pain."

You lower the sword. Your hand shakes. Your hand is human. Your hand is afraid. Your hand is alive.

"I cannot," you say. Your voice is broken. It is a crack. It is a fault. "I cannot kill you. I cannot kill me. I cannot kill the truth."

The King stands up. The King is tall. The King is angry. The King is a storm.

"You defy the law," the King says. "You defy the order. You defy the self. You are the flaw. You are the crack. You are the end."

The guards move. The guards are fast. The guards are cold. The guards are the law. They surround you. They surround Thomas. They surround the truth.

You look at Thomas. You look at the sword. You look at the ground. The ground is the earth. The earth is the mother. The earth is the grave.

You drop the sword. The sword hits the floor. The sound is a bell. The sound is a warning. The sound is the end.

Thomas laughs. The laugh is soft. The laugh is sad. The laugh is free.

"Edward," Thomas says. "You have chosen. You have chosen the bird. You have chosen the silence. You have chosen the end."

The guards strike. The guards are quick. The guards are brutal. The guards are the law. You do not fight. You do not run. You do not hide. You stand. You stand still. You stand in the light.

The pain is bright. The pain is white. The pain is the sun. The pain is the fire. The pain is the wheel.

You see the sky. The sky is blue. The sky is vast. The sky is empty. The sky is full. You see the birds. The birds are flying. The birds are free. The birds are the song. The song is loud. The song is clear. The song is the truth.

You fall. You fall to the ground. The ground is hard. The ground is cold. The ground is real. You are still. You are quiet. You are the bird.

The wheel turns. The wheel does not stop. The wheel does not care. The wheel is the law. The law is the king. The king is the stone. The stone is the earth. The earth is the grave. The grave is the silence. The silence is the song.

You are gone. You are here. You are everywhere. You are nowhere. You are the scar. The scar is golden. The scar is light. The scar is the memory. The memory is the pain. The pain is the love. The love is the bird. The bird is free.

The wheel turns.

The road is red.

You walk it.

Your boots are heavy.

They are iron.

They are steel.

They are your bones.

You walk because you must.

You walk because the order is given.

You walk because the law is the law.

The law is a stone.

You carry it.

You are a knight.

You are a shield.

You are a sword.

You are not a man.

You are a function.

Your name is Edward.

It is a small name.

It is a soft name.

It does not fit the armor.

It does not fit the duty.

You wear the helm.

You see the world through a slit.

The world is thin.

The world is flat.

The world is gray.

You ride with Thomas.

Thomas is your ally.

Thomas is your friend.

Thomas is a lie.

Thomas is a mirror.

You see yourself in Thomas.

You see the doubt in Thomas.

You see the fear in Thomas.

You see the love in Thomas.

"Edward," Thomas says.

His voice is low.

It is rough.

It is like gravel.

"Why do we ride?"

"You know why," you say.

Your voice is metal.

It is cold.

It is hard.

"For the King. For the Order. For the peace."

"Peace is a ghost," Thomas says.

He looks at you.

His eyes are bright.

His eyes are wet.

"We hunt ghosts, Edward. We hunt the self."

You do not answer.

You look ahead.

The road stretches out.

It is endless.

It is a line.

It is a wound.

It is the scar of the earth.

You remember the birds.

You remember the sparrows.

They are gone.

They are crushed.

They are broken.

They were the song.

Now there is only silence.

The silence is loud.

The silence is a scream.

The castle is black.

It is a tooth.

It bites the sky.

It is the seat of power.

It is the mouth of the beast.

You enter the gate.

The gate is iron.

The gate is cold.

The gate is a jaw.

You step inside.

The air is thick.

The air is stale.

The air smells of incense and rot.

You stand before the King.

The King is small.

The King is old.

The King is a shadow.

He sits on the throne.

The throne is high.

The throne is far.

You are small.

You are dust.

"Knight," the King says.

His voice is dry.

It is like leaves.

"You have brought the traitor."

You look at Thomas.

Thomas is on his knees.

Thomas is bound.

Thomas is broken.

Thomas is you.

"I am not a traitor," Thomas says.

His voice is weak.

It is a whisper.

It is a prayer.

"I am only a man. I am only afraid. I am only tired."

"Silence," the King says.

"The law is clear. The law is the wheel. The wheel turns. It does not stop. It does not ask. It does not care."

You look at your hands.

Your hands are gloved.

Your hands are steel.

Your hands are tools.

You feel the weight.

You feel the cold.

You feel the truth.

The truth is a stone.

The stone is in your chest.

The stone is in your heart.

The stone is the bird.

The bird is dead.

"You must execute him," the King says.

He does not look at you.

He looks at the floor.

He looks at the past.

He looks at the future.

"Raise your sword. Strike true. Strike hard. Strike now."

You raise the sword.

The sword is long.

The sword is bright.

The sword is a star.

It cuts the air.

It cuts the light.

It cuts the time.

Thomas looks at you.

His eyes are clear.

His eyes are kind.

His eyes are full of love.

The love is primal.

The love is wild.

The love is the only thing that is real.

The love is the bird.

The bird is in his eyes.

The bird is in your heart.

"Edward," Thomas says.

"Do it. End it. End the wheel. End the pain."

You lower the sword.

Your hand shakes.

Your hand is human.

Your hand is afraid.

Your hand is alive.

"I cannot," you say.

Your voice is broken.

It is a crack.

It is a fault.

"I cannot kill you. I cannot kill me. I cannot kill the truth."

The King stands up.

The King is tall.

The King is angry.

The King is a storm.

"You defy the law," the King says.

"You defy the order. You defy the self. You are the flaw. You are the crack. You are the end."

The guards move.

The guards are fast.

The guards are cold.

The guards are the law.

They surround you.

They surround Thomas.

They surround the truth.

You look at Thomas.

You look at the sword.

You look at the ground.

The ground is the earth.

The earth is the mother.

The earth is the grave.

You drop the sword.

The sword hits the floor.

The sound is a bell.

The sound is a warning.

The sound is the end.

Thomas laughs.

The laugh is soft.

The laugh is sad.

The laugh is free.

"Edward," Thomas says.

"You have chosen. You have chosen the bird. You have chosen the silence. You have chosen the end."

The guards strike.

The guards are quick.

The guards are brutal.

The guards are the law.

You do not fight.

You do not run.

You do not hide.

You stand.

You stand still.

You stand in the light.

The pain is bright.

The pain is white.

The pain is the sun.

The pain is the fire.

The pain is the wheel.

You see the sky.

The sky is blue.

The sky is vast.

The sky is empty.

The sky is full.

You see the birds.

The birds are flying.

The birds are free.

The birds are the song.

The song is loud.

The song is clear.

The song is the truth.

You fall.

You fall to the ground.

The ground is hard.

The ground is cold.

The ground is real.

You are still.

You are quiet.

You are the bird.

The wheel turns.

The wheel does not stop.

The wheel does not care.

The wheel is the law.

The law is the king.

The king is the stone.

The stone is the earth.

The earth is the grave.

The grave is the silence.

The silence is the song.

You are gone.

You are here.

You are everywhere.

You are nowhere.

You are the scar.

The scar is golden.

The scar is light.

The scar is the memory.

The memory is the pain.

The pain is the love.

The love is the bird.

The bird is free.

The wheel turns.