The ground beneath Enok's hooves thrummed with a deep, resonant vibration as the voice reverberated through the stone, the tremor traveling up his legs like a slow wave. He paused mid-stride, his usually steady gait arrested by the unexpected sensation. His breath, steady and slow, misted in the cool air as he took in his surroundings, dark, soft eyes scanning the stone around him. The realization settled over him like the first light of dawn—the "step pyramid" he had been climbing was no mere structure, but a living, breathing entity. The sensation was not alarming to him, not in the way it might have been to others. It was simply… curious, a piece of a puzzle that was now beginning to take shape.

"LITTLE COURSER."

The voice was vast, ancient, with a timbre that seemed to vibrate through Enok's very bones. His ears flicked back and then forward again, the only outward sign of his interest. He did not flinch, nor did he quicken his breath. Instead, he stood firm, feeling the slow rhythm of the earth beneath him, waiting for the echo of the voice to fade into the stillness of the air. Then, as he raised his head, the stone above shifted. A face emerged from the rock, its features carved by time itself, its expression benevolent, almost kind. The smile, though set in stone, felt warm, almost familiar, like the embrace of the evening sun after a long day of toil.

"WHERE IS YOUR KNIGHT?"

The question rolled over him, settling in his mind like a weighty stone at the bottom of a still pond. He pondered it, his gaze unwavering as he looked up at the face, his thoughts moving with deliberate calm. A knight—what was that? The word stirred something deep within him, a fragment of memory, perhaps, or an old story whispered among his kind. But it was not a concept he had ever truly known. A figure of protection, a companion, or a leader, perhaps? The knights of old had vanished with the humans, their tales left behind in the dust of the Dungeon.

Yet here was this ancient being, asking him about a knight, as though expecting him to produce one from the shadows of history.

Enok let out a slow breath, his muzzle parting slightly as he exhaled, and he lowered his gaze to the stone beneath his hooves. The earth was solid, steadfast—a mirror of himself. There was no knight here, no armor-clad warrior to answer this being’s call. There was only him.

"Knight," Enok began, his voice a low, rumbling whisper, carrying the weight of the silence that surrounded them. "My knight..." He let the idea linger, his thoughts as slow and deliberate as the course of a river.

"He is dust, as all knights have become. His bones rest where the earth has taken them, and his name is but a whisper on the wind." he finally said, his tone not of regret, but simple truth. He lifted his head again, meeting the stone gaze above him with the quiet assurance of one who knows his place in the world. "But I am here, standing where they once stood. I carry their memory, though it has faded. I walk their paths, though they are overgrown. I face the Dungeon, as they once did."

The words fell into the air, each one deliberate, each one true. There was no grand declaration, no fiery passion—only the calm, steady truth of a Courser who knew himself, who knew that the past was gone and the present was all that remained.

He felt a deep connection to the land beneath his hooves, to the stones that had stood for millennia, unmoved by time or change. If there was a knight to be found, he imagined it would be one who understood this—one who stood as firmly, as steadily as the earth itself. But for now, Enok knew he needed no such companion. The strength of the earth ran through him, a quiet, unyielding force that required no guardian.

Enok's gaze never wavered from the stone face, wondering if it would understand this, if it would recognize the kinship he felt with the ground it had risen from. "Perhaps... the knight you seek is not lost," Enok said thoughtfully, "but simply no longer needed." The words hung in the air between them, calm and without expectation, as Enok stood, a quiet, steady presence among the stones.