"Is there any hope?"

"There's always hope."

"I meant reasonable hope."

Mordred smiles unfathomably. "Hope itself is unreasonable, Galahad."


They walk together for a stretch, two forgettable silhouettes. "So this is it?"

One curt nod, nothing more. Mordred turns away. Galahad strides purposefully forward.

Their shadows stretch as the sun dips lower, are still a hair's breadth apart though they themselves are diverged. A moment later the sky flushes in afterglow, the shadows pale, and Mordred disappears into the castle; Galahad sees him vanish from his peripheral vision, but doesn't look back.

He'll never see Mordred again.