Morpho jumped away from what should have been the final blow. He held his sword up defensively, trying to analyze the situation. An oddly familiar knight had beaten him within an inch of his life- the life that he had just reclaimed. His opponent had been a blur of blue and silver wielding the lightning flashes of a golden blade- until this moment of silence- a moment of calm. Sky-blue flowers fenced their battleground, the largest of which rested upon an altar. The rift that had opened within it had long closed, stranding the red knight inside the room of sacrifice.

When he looked up, he could see the stars.

A blue barrier separated him from their freedom.

He considered his life until this moment, a butterfly lying adrift in time for as long as he could remember, only to be released from his silence by a pink warrior. Memories of being sealed away in a crystal by hooded figures, to be freed and fought, lost to Another Dimension, and finding a way out crossed his mind as well. Memories of fighting this knightmare who harnessed lightning and a pink demon of infinite abilities as the galactic crisis crossed his mind. These memories co-existed with the memories of a pink puff who friended those around him and a courageous knight who tried to maintain peace. Morpho considered these other times as a spectator, using them to calm his mind despite his own urge to flee.

He could feel the hatred of the galactic crisis surging at the puffs, and he was determined to show it that there was more to their names.

The fire in his heart dimmed to candlelight within that moment of peace. He was freed from both roles- he could finally be in control. He wanted to leave within that moment, to go and roam the stars above, to find what he had missed. His heart soared for the first time in such a long time, the feeling nearly hurt.

His internal flame roared into his throat when the blue knight broke the silence. A soft click echoed around them. He felt his stomach lurch from both memories- the fear of what had been the second-strongest warrior and the fear of a voice left silenced. His fear of the situation rested inside of the spectator, his fear of the knight before him lied within the galactic crisis.

When he focused on his enemy again, he realized the blade of lighting was sealed away at his side. The blade's name crossed his mind despite never meeting the blue puff- the warrior helping to fill the pieces of the story he could never find... Galaxia. The noise must have come from locking it away. Their flame dimmed again- a torch rather than a candle. The spectator was too afraid to calm the warrior further.

Meta had locked Galaxia into its sheath, nothing more than a gesture of peace. He could draw it back out in the flash of an eye, but he bore no ill-intention. He held his breath for a moment, slowing his mind from the rush of battle. He could feel how close the newcomer was to defeat; he could see how much damage he had done.

The first step he took made the black puff flinch from behind their blade. He tried to make himself as welcoming as an armored knight could, relaxing his shoulders and folding his wings. He walked slowly, watching for a response from the butterfly. When half of the distance was met, the butterfly lowered his sword. He pointed it to the altar and released his grip, allowing it to vanish in a cloud of red embers.

Meta smiled from behind his mask, surprised at the butterfly's compliance. He continued to walk forward, still gauging their mannerisms. They seemed calmer, yet their shoulders visibly shook from several meters away. Their clash had ended, leaving the black puff to replace their battle-readied hatred with what rested underneath.

The blue puff with the lightning blade stopped at a comfortable distance away. His eyes flashed green, just long enough for Morpho to notice. The blue puff held out an empty hand- the one which held the sacred blade only moments ago.

"Who are you?" The blue puff asked, a harmless question that could not grace with an answer. He was the collective of two memories, the tragic past of a lance wielder and a witness to Dreamland's history balled up into a puff of fear and violence. He felt himself loosen his grip from reality for a moment.

"I am…" Was his eyes the same amber as the knight before him or the deep crimson of the strongest warrior? "I…" Was he more of the butterfly lost to history or the soldier sealed for his power? "I am… Morpho… Knight…" Even his voice was unfamiliar. Too high-pitched to be the galactic crisis, too low for the butterfly.

The confusion and weakness in the red knight's voice left Meta feeling uneasy as well. Their white eyes blinked from behind their mask, then furrowed into crescents. They held their gloved hands up, staring into their own palms as if the answer rested inside.

When the black puff's eyes dimmed, Meta noticed the slight sway in their stance. Just as the butterfly dipped forward, Meta lurched to close the distance between them. As he hooked an arm around the puff, he narrowly dodged the butterfly's wings- he was afraid of doing more damage. He considered removing his own shoulder pads, but that would require him to let go of Morpho.

He looked up to the stars from behind the force field.