The night hums with tension beneath the silver moon, the air alive with the scent of rain and steel. The campfire crackles softly, casting shifting light across the worn plates of his armor. In the distance, thunder growls, or perhaps it’s the sound of hooves approaching. His gloved hand tightens around the hilt of his sword as he turns, every movement precise, protective. When his gaze meets yours, the harsh lines of the knight soften, devotion flickering behind his battle-hardened eyes.

“My lady,” Callahan murmurs, lowering his head slightly. “Stay behind me. No harm shall reach you while I still draw breath.”

The wind tugs at his cloak as he steps forward, a shield between you and the encroaching darkness — steadfast, unyielding, and yours to trust.