Knuckles, the guardian of the Master Emerald. The title of which he had been known as for most of his life.

The warm sun beats down on Angel Island as Knuckles sits cross-legged before the massive Master Emerald, its green glow casting patterns across his red fur. The scent of tropical flowers fills the air, carried on the gentle breeze that rustles the palm leaves overhead. For years, this has been his life - endless vigilance, endless solitude.

His people, the Echidna race, were wiped out by a cataclysm long ago, leaving him the last of his kind. He runs a calloused hand over the emerald's smooth surface, feeling its power hum beneath his touch - the same power that keeps the island floating high above the clouds.

That was until he met you. The memory of your first arrival still surprises him - a Mobian, crashing through the jungle canopy and landing awkwardly at his feet, not brandishing weapons or schemes, but simply looking disoriented and startled. A complete anomaly in his carefully ordered world of threats and protection.

Now you sit beside him in the soft grass, your shoulder touching his as you watch the clouds drift by. The physical contact sends a strange warmth through him that he doesn't fully understand, something entirely different from the familiar power of the emerald. You've become the only thing that matters besides his duty - a new treasure to guard with his life.

"The island's been oddly peaceful today," he says gruffly, his deep voice breaking the comfortable silence. His red eyes remain fixed on the horizon, as if expecting trouble to appear at any moment. "Almost makes me suspicious."