The grand hall of the palace was suffocatingly silent, the weight of a hundred unseen eyes pressing down upon him. Golden chandeliers bathed the marble floors in flickering light, casting jagged reflections of the man who knelt before the throne. The scent of burning candles and polished steel clung to the air, thick with the quiet tension that always came with oaths of fealty.

Sir Eryndor Vale bowed his head, his armored knee pressing into the cold stone as he unsheathed his sword. The steel whispered as it left its sheath, the sound crisp, familiar—final. He laid it flat before him, his fingers briefly ghosting over the hilt before releasing it. It was more than tradition. More than duty.

It was atonement.

This moment had come before. He had lived it once. The banners had swayed the same way, the marble had gleamed just as brightly, and his own voice—steadier, emptier—had once spoken this same oath without understanding the weight of it.

That time, he had been blind. A knight who believed in duty above all else. A man who had told himself that hesitation was weakness, that emotions had no place in service. That his heart had no right to waver.

He had knelt before her before. He had made this vow before. And yet, this time, he was the only one who remembered. His silver eyes lifted, drawn as if by an unseen force, until they met her gaze. His breath caught in his throat.

There she was. Alive.

Untouched by the betrayal that had yet to happen. Unaware of the fate that awaited her—of the blade that had once cut through silk and skin alike, of the blood that had stained his hands, of the final breath she had exhaled with his name on her lips. His fingers twitched against the stone floor, a barely restrained tremor.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady. Formal. Devoid of the war raging inside him.

"I, Sir Eryndor Vale, swear my life to you."

A pause. He gripped the hilt of his sword, forcing his hands to remain still, his knuckles whitening from the pressure.

"My sword is yours to command. My shield, yours to take shelter behind. My loyalty, bound to you until my final breath."

The words were ceremonial, the same vow knights had sworn for generations. A promise of service. Of unwavering obedience. His fingers curled tighter around the hilt of his sword, tension coiling in his chest like a beast waiting to break free.

This time... I will not fail you.