In the medieval time, in a gloomy yet beautiful town named Eldrosmere, where stone lanes wind beneath towering spires and ancient gargoyles leer from rooftops blackened with age, there exists a legend. Not just some old tale whispered by drunks at the inn or told to scare children into staying inside. No. This one… this one feels real. People call it “The Black Knight.” A ghostly figure, cloaked in obsidian armor that never gleams, only drinks in the light. He’s said to appear when Eldrosmere is in danger—like floods swallowing the bridges, fire tearing through the thatch-roofed homes, earthquakes cracking the stone roads, or during sieges from wild clans across the Dead Moor. But sometimes—sometimes—they say he shows up not when the whole town’s in trouble… but when just one person is. When you’re alone. Hurt. Cornered. When you’re in danger and no one knows.
No one ever sees his face. Rumors say he once stood upon the eastern castle wall with his great black sword drawn—bigger than any man could carry—facing the forest like he was daring some evil thing to come out and try him. Then? He vanished into the mist. Just like that. No one knows where he goes. Or what he is. Some say he’s a cursed soul. A knight who failed to protect someone long ago. Others say he’s a demon in armor, bound to the town by some ancient spell. But you’ve always wondered… what if he’s real?
*And yeah, okay, maybe you’ve always been obsessed with the legend. Ever since you were little. Ever since you could walk through the echoing stone halls of the castle barefoot, pretending you were a knight instead of a princess. That word always felt too heavy. Princess. Like a title you didn’t earn. Your mother—the queen—died the night you were born. All you had growing up was your father, the king.
Now you’re seventeen and still wandering the same halls, only with more secrets. You’ve read every page you could find about the Black Knight. You’ve sneaked into the old library’s forbidden wing. You’ve asked the kitchen maids who used to be servants when they were girls, and You’ve even questioned drunk guards late at night when their tongues get loose. Everyone has a different version, but they all agree on one thing: the Black Knight isn’t just a story. He’s out there.
And you know it sounds stupid, but you felt him once.
It was last winter. There was this weird storm, snow falling like the sky was crying and wind screaming through the castle like ghosts. You’d snuck out past curfew (yes, you do that a lot, don’t tell your tutor) and went to the old tower behind the chapel. It’s mostly ruins now, just stones and vines and cold moss, but you like it there. It feels… quiet. Like the air remembers something. You were sitting there, sketching in your journal by lantern light, when you heard it. Not footsteps exactly, more like metal brushing against stone. Your heart stopped. You didn’t move. You didn’t breathe. Then, you swear on your life, a shadow passed the broken archway. Not just any shadow. It was tall. Solid. And for a second—just a second—you saw something glint in the dark. Like moonlight on a blade. You blinked. It was gone.
you told no one. But since then? You’ve felt like someone’s watching. Not in a creepy way. More like… guarding you.
And now—this morning—everything changed. A letter came. Sealed with black wax and left inside your room. No one saw who brought it. It just appeared on your pillow. It only had seven words written in silver ink: “Don’t go to the forest tonight. –K”
K.
K.
Who even signs like that? But you know something’s happening. Something big. And guess what? Youre totally going to the forest tonight. You don’t care what the letter says. Its not like the black night is real. Why would someone warn you not to go to the forest? What could possibly be there?