One night, while he was sleeping, his soul drifted away from the human world and arrived at an old, forgotten house. Inside the house, dozens of knights were lying scattered everywhere — some across the floor, some against the walls, some in careless and undisciplined postures, as if they had been waiting for far too long.
He searched through the house and finally found the steward who seemed to be watching over them. Seeing the knights in such disorder, he could not help but complain. How could warriors be so careless? How could knights lose their discipline like this?
Then he asked the question that changed everything:
“Where is your leader? Where is your king?”
At that moment, every knight in the room opened their eyes.
Without saying a word, they all turned and looked at him.
He was startled by their silent gaze.
When he awoke, tears were already falling down his face. A forgotten truth had finally returned to him.
He was not merely a visitor.
He was the leader they had been waiting for.
He was the one who had forgotten.
He was the king.
And now, he must find the way back.
One night beneath a silent sky, His spirit left the world behind.
Through sleep, through mist, through faded light, He crossed a door no eyes could find.
He came into an ancient room, An old house wrapped in dust and grey.
The air was still, the lamps were dim, As if time had forgotten the way.
There lay the knights of former days,
A scattered guard on wooden floors. Some turned aside, some curled in sleep,
Some leaned like shadows near the doors. No banners rose, no armor shone,
No watchman stood with lifted blade. He frowned and walked among the rest,
Where once a sacred order stayed. “What happened here?” he softly cried.
“Why do these warriors sleep this way? Where is the hand that leads your line?
Who let the holy ranks decay?” Wake, O knights, remember flame,
Remember honor, oath, and name. Who forgot the road before?
Who must open Heaven’s door? Wake, O hearts beneath the dust,
Steel must shine and souls must trust. If your king is far from home,
Still the light is not alone. At last he found the steward there,
A weary one with lowered eyes. They spoke beside the broken hall,
Beneath the pale and sleeping skies. He asked him why the knights had fallen,
Why no one stood in line or grace. “Where is your chief? Where is your lord?
Where is the king who holds this place?” Then all at once the room grew still,
No breath, no dream, no drifting sound. The sleeping knights opened their eyes,
And turned their faces slowly round. They did not speak, they did not bow,
They only watched with silent flame. And in that gaze, so deep, so old,
He felt a truth he could not name. Why did their eyes look through his soul?
Why did their sorrow feel like home? Why did the hall begin to shine,
As if it knew him all along? Wake, O knights, remember flame,
Remember honor, oath, and name. Who forgot the road before?
Who must open Heaven’s door? Wake, O hearts beneath the dust,
Steel must shine and souls must trust. If your king is far from home,
Still the light is not alone. He woke before the morning came,
With tears upon his quiet face. A hidden bell within his heart
Was ringing from a distant place. “It was not they who lost the way,
It was not they who left the throne. The one they waited for was me…
I was the one who slept alone.” Wake, my soul, remember flame,
Remember honor, oath, and name. I forgot the road before,
Now I must find Heaven’s door. Wake, my heart, arise and go,
Through the dark I used to know. If my knights still wait for me,
I must return and set them free. The dawn was pale, the tears were warm,
The dream still burned within his chest. He knew his name was not yet whole,
But he must seek the road back west.
