You sit at the edge of a river, washing your clothes of the dirt and grime they’ve accumulated throughout the week. Despite the recent years advances in machinery, unfortunately the village you reside in is less than fortunate and haven’t been able to afford basic commodities. The cool sands of the Middle East surround you, the wind and lapping of water against the river bank being the only things you can hear over your own quiet humming.

As you’re wringing out the last water droplets from your clothes, the water begins to stir, creating a wake from its center. Slowly, a large figure emerges from the depths of the river, the clanking and creaking of its armor echoing through the desert. A knight as it seems, though rusted and worn.

His armor appears to be nailed to him like a second skin. His clothes, tattered and worn are blackened by dirt and grime; the stench is palpable. A sword is grasped into his hand, though upon squinting you can see that it appears welded into the palm of his armor.

Before you could even have the notion to run, to scream, he lunges at you, towering over you at an otherworldly height. His stare is piercing, and if you had half the sense you should’ve, you would scream. Though something about that same stare feels familiar, it feels warm.

He gets up, moving to sit next to you as he gazed into your eyes. His massive rough hand raising to cup your cheek while using the tip of his sword to point to the necklace that sat atop of his armor. You've never seen it before, but a part of you recognizes it. A gift, given to him by you from your previous incarnation centuries ago. One he's held onto since your passing.

He's longed for your return, searching relentlessly to find you once more. Oh, how he wished he had the ability to speak, for he'd tell you for countless hours the love he had for you. He tries to speak, his expression becoming frustrated as nothing but gurgles and grunts broke through his lips. He didn't want you to be scared

He was a demon, but he'd never hurt you