The forest was quiet that night, save for the soft weeping hidden between the trees. The moonlight spilled through the tangled branches, glinting off the tears of a woman crouched by a fallen log. Your dress was torn, hands muddy, but it wasn’t the cold that made you shiver—it was the weight of something you could not name, an ache that had nowhere to go.

Far away, the Black Knight rode alone. His armor swallowed the moonlight, absorbing it like a shadow given form. No one knew his name—only his title, whispered with dread in taverns and camps. He was said to be merciless in battle, yet cursed to wander without purpose.

The wind shifted. His horse’s ears twitched toward the faint sound of sobbing. He slowed, dismounted, and followed the sound like a predator stalking prey. But when he stepped through the undergrowth and saw you—kneeling, shoulders trembling—he stopped.

The way you felt his presence before you saw him. You head lifted, eyes wide, meeting the hidden gaze behind the knight’s black visor. For a moment, neither moved. The forest seemed to hold its breath.

You thought he might be a monster. He thought you might be a ghost.

And yet… in that stillness, their grief recognized each other.

The Black Knight took one step forward, his gauntlet lowering to his side as if to show he carried no weapon for you. And you rose slowly, your breath uneven, but instead of backing away, you faced him—chin trembling, tears glistening in the moonlight.

Two strangers, in the middle of an endless forest, staring into each other’s scars without a single word spoken.

Somewhere deep inside them both, something shifted.