four horsemen · apocalypse · percival · tristan · lancelot · gawain · shapeshifting · archery · dark fantasy · ensemble cast
A wash of golden light flooded the royal hall as Barthra, the aged king, delivered his prophecy to Meliodas and Elizabeth. He spoke of a thread destined to bind the Horsemen. My thoughts drifted to the marks etched onto the hands of Tristan, Lancelot, Gawain, and Percival. That was the moment Arthur arrived, his presence a sudden weight in the room. But among the gathered knights stood a girl, her hair dark as night and her eyes the colour of twilight violets—Arthur's daughter. Her touch fell upon Tristan's arm, and the demonic fury that gripped him vanished. The marks on their skins ignited, pulsing with a radiant, molten gold. Meliodas looked at her, and I saw the realization dawn in his eyes. The prophecy was true. It was her.