The First MoonKnight

CHAPTER 1: The Search KHONSHU'S P.O.V.

As I traverse the vast expanse of the desert, the grains of sand whisper ancient secrets beneath my feet. The moon, my eternal companion, casts its silver light upon the barren landscape, illuminating the path ahead. It is one of the many nights that I wander around trying to find the right human to carry out my will.

Memories of past encounters linger like specters in the recesses of my mind. The faces of those who fell short of the mark haunt me-rulers intoxicated by the allure of dominion, their hearts devoid of empathy but too scared to fight, scholars consumed by the pursuit of knowledge, their wisdom tainted by arrogance and all their values were against harming others. Each one is a testament to the complexities of mortal virtue, and each one is a reminder of the weight of my responsibility. The only of those worms that were worth my time were warriors adorned in gilded armor, their blades stained with blood but apparently, the shine of the gold could get them out of their way, even if their way was the order of a god.

What a waste.

But amidst the shadows of disappointment, a flicker of hope remains-a hope that somewhere, amidst the shifting sands and starlit skies, lies the one destined to bear the mantle of the Avatar. It is this hope that propels me forward, driving me to venture into the heart of the desert, where the boundaries between the mortal realm and the divine blur like mirages in the desert heat during the day.

As I walk, the desert stretches endlessly before me, a canvas of desolation and beauty intertwined. The silence is deafening, broken only by the soft susurrus of the wind. Each dune I crest reveals a new view, a tableau of golden sands and endless horizons, a testament to the timeless majesty of creation.

Yet, amidst the grandeur of the desert, there is a sense of isolation-a solitude that mirrors the depths of my own soul. For despite my divine nature, I am bound by the same frailty that defines mortals-a vulnerability to doubt and uncertainty, a fear of failure that gnaws at the edges of my consciousness.

But even in the face of doubt, I press on, driven by a sense of duty that transcends the mortal frailty that started to form in my mind. For I am the guardian of the moon, and it is my solemn responsibility to seek out the one who will bear the mantle of the Avatar. And so, beneath the watchful gaze of the moon, I walk-guided by the light of it.

As the desert sands yield to the fertile embrace of an oasis, I approach the village that was built around the source of that fertility-a solitary beacon amidst the vast expanse of the wilderness. The moon hangs overhead, casting its silvery light upon the humble dwellings below. The air is alive with the sounds of life-the laughter of children, the chatter of villagers, the timeless rhythm of existence echoing through the night.

Drawing closer, I observe the village with a sense of quiet reverence. Each building is a testament to the resilience of humanity, weathered by time yet standing strong against the ravages of nature. Smoke rises lazily from chimneys, carrying with it the scent of home-cooked meals and hearth fires-a comforting reminder of the warmth that lies within.

As I enter the village, I am met with the villagers going on with their usual routines. Women cooking, men coming back from a tough day in the fields, and children running around and playing with one another. I observe them as they go about their lives-their joys, their sorrows, their hopes, and their dreams. Each face tells a story-a story of struggle and triumph, of love and loss, of the eternal dance between light and shadow.

Its mud-brick buildings bathed in the ethereal light of the moon. Shadows dance upon the walls, casting intricate patterns upon the sand-strewn streets. Lanterns flicker in the night, their warm glow illuminating the faces of the villagers.