The tower shook.

Stone dust fell like snow.

Sir Thomas stood still.

His hands were bound.

The rope bit into his wrists.

He did not scream.

He looked at the window.

The glass was cracked.

Light came through.

It hit the floor.

It hit his armor.

The steel was cold.

He felt the cold.

He felt the pain.

He felt the end.

But he felt the ring.

The gold ring.

It was on his finger.

It was always there.

It was part of him.

Like his skin.

Like his bone.

He was a knight.

He was the Guard.

He kept the gate.

He kept the peace.

He kept the law.

Or so they said.

The men broke the door.

Wood splintered.

Dust rose.

They wore black.

They wore iron.

They were the Inquisition.

They were the new law.

They came for him.

They came for the truth.

Thomas did not move.

He waited.

His mind was clear.

His heart was heavy.

He thought of the past.

He thought of the years.

He had served the Duke.

He had served the King.

He had been loyal.

He had been good.

He had been trusted.

That was the lie.

Trust was a cage.

Trust was a weapon.

They used it.

They used it against him.

The leader stepped forward.

He was tall.

He was young.

His face was pale.

His eyes were hard.

He held a scroll.

He held the accusation.

He did not speak.

He pointed.

He pointed at Thomas.

He pointed at the ring.

The room went silent.

The air was thick.

The dust hung in the light.

Thomas looked at the ring.

He remembered the day.

It was a winter day.

The Duke had given it to him.

It was a gift.

It was a promise.

It was a chain.

The Duke had smiled.

The Duke had lied.

The Duke had betrayed him.

But Thomas had not known.

He had believed.

He had served.

He had waited.

Now the truth was here.

The truth was sharp.

The truth was cruel.

The leader spoke.

His voice was low.

He said Thomas was a spy.

He said Thomas stole the crown.

He said Thomas betrayed the realm.

The words hung in the air.

They were false.

They were heavy.

Thomas heard them.

He did not argue.

He did not deny.

He knew the system.

He knew the game.

The weak were blamed.

The strong were free.

The Duke was safe.

The Duke was far.

The Duke was dead.

But his shadow lived.

His shadow ruled.

His shadow killed.

Thomas looked at the men.

They were young.

They were afraid.

They were tools.

They did not know.

They did not care.

They followed orders.

They followed fear.

Thomas felt pity.

Pity for them.

Pity for himself.

Pity for the world.

The world was broken.

The world was blind.

The world was cruel.

He looked at the ring again.

The gold was bright.

The gold was warm.

It was his mirror.

It showed him.

It showed the lie.

It showed the truth.

He was not a hero.

He was a victim.

He was a fool.

He was a man.

The leader raised his hand.

The men moved.

They grabbed his arms.

They pulled him down.

His knees hit the floor.

The stone was hard.

The pain was sharp.

The dust covered him.

He breathed in.

He breathed out.

He felt the ring.

He felt the weight.

He felt the end.

The end was close.

The end was here.

The leader stood over him.

He looked down.

His face was blank.

His heart was empty.

He did not feel guilt.

He did not feel shame.

He felt duty.

He felt power.

He felt the system.

The system was strong.

The system was cold.

The system was eternal.

Thomas looked up.

He looked into the leader’s eyes.

He saw nothing.

He saw a void.

He saw a machine.

He saw the face of the age.

The age was old.

The age was tired.

The age was dying.

But it would not die.

It would change.

It would hide.

It would kill.

It would move on.

Thomas closed his eyes.

He let go.

He let go of the fight.

He let go of the anger.

He let go of the fear.

He held only the ring.

The ring was gold.

The ring was heavy.

The ring was real.

The rest was dust.

The rest was smoke.

The rest was lies.

He opened his eyes.

He looked at the sky.

The sky was gray.

The sky was vast.

The sky was indifferent.

It did not care.

It did not see.

It did not judge.

It just was.

Thomas smiled.

It was a small smile.

It was a quiet smile.

It was a sad smile.

It was a free smile.

He was free.

He was finally free.

The rope tightened.

The pain increased.

The world blurred.

The world faded.

The ring remained.

The ring was bright.

The ring was gold.

The ring was him.

The ring was the truth.

The truth was simple.

The truth was plain.

The truth was cold.

He was alone.

He was always alone.

That was the price.

That was the cost.

That was the life.

The men left.

They left him there.

They left him to die.

They left him to rot.

They went to work.

They went to sleep.

They went home.

They forgot him.

They forgot the ring.

They forgot the lie.

They forgot the truth.

The dust settled.

The room was still.

The light faded.

The dark came.

The dark was deep.

The dark was quiet.

The dark was kind.

Thomas was gone.

The ring was gone.

The truth was gone.

The lie remained.

The lie was gold.

The lie was bright.

The lie was eternal.

The story ended.

The story began.

The wheel turned.

The wheel turned.

The wheel turned.

Time moved on.

Time did not stop.

Time did not care.

Time did not remember.

Time just passed.

The stone was cold.

The stone was hard.

The stone was old.

The stone would wait.

The stone would watch.

The stone would remember.

But only the stone.

Only the dust.

Only the silence.

Only the gold.

The gold was there.

The gold was still.

The gold was waiting.

For the next man.

For the next lie.

For the next death.

The cycle continued.

The cycle was strong.

The cycle was real.

The cycle was true.

Thomas was dust.

The ring was gold.

The truth was gone.

The lie was king.

The end was here.

The end was now.

The end was always.

The end was everything.

He was nothing.

He was everyone.

He was no one.

He was the ring.

He was the gold.

He was the light.

He was the dark.

He was the silence.

He was the scream.

He was the breath.

He was the stone.

He was the dust.

He was the end.

The end was golden.

The end was bright.

The end was cold.

The end was quiet.

The end was here.

The end was now.

The end was always.

The end was everything.

The end was nothing.

The end was truth.

The end was lie.

The end was life.

The end was death.

The end was time.

The end was space.

The end was silence.

The end was sound.

The end was light.

The end was dark.

The end was gold.

The end was dust.

The end was Thomas.

The end was the world.

The end was the story.

The story was over.

The story was true.

The story was false.

The story was real.

The story was dream.

The story was memory.

The story was forgetting.

The story was the ring.

The ring was the story.

The story was the end.

The end was the ring.

The ring was the gold.

The gold was the light.

The light was the dark.

The dark was the silence.

The silence was the end.

The end was the beginning.

The beginning was the end.

The wheel turned.

The wheel turned.

The wheel turned.

Always.

Always.

Always.