The Veil of Danu

The Gathering Tempest (19)

The ride back to the city was silent, the chill in the air matched only by the unease gnawing at my mind. My thoughts were a relentless storm, tangled and vivid, replaying the encounter with the Black Knight. Those glowing red eyes burned into my memory, their malice sharp and undeniable.

It wasn't the first time I had seen him.

Two years ago, in Winlow, I had looked into those same red eyes. The village had been vibrant that morning, bustling with trade, laughter, and life. By nightfall, it was nothing but ash and screams. The Black Knight had ridden at the forefront of the destruction, clad in the same unnatural black armor, his horned helm casting a menacing silhouette against the flames.

He had commanded his fae soldiers with ruthless precision, his monstrous mount tearing through anything in its path. The destruction had been absolute. The child I had been, naive and powerless, had fled with nothing but terror in her heart.

But I wasn't that girl anymore.

Even so, the encounter had shaken me. My fingers brushed the flute tucked securely into my cloak. The way the Black Knight's gaze had lingered on it—unnerving, almost hungry—haunted me. What power did this simple-looking instrument hold that it had drawn the attention of a fae so feared even by his own kind?

...........................
The city gates loomed ahead, and the guards, recognizing us, hurried to open them. Alric and Narok were already inside, waiting for us. Their relief was evident as we rode through, but none of us lingered. There was too much to do, and too little time to waste.

Within the stone walls of the keep, I stood before Lord Dayjin, recounting the events of the night. The flickering light of the hearth played across his face, casting sharp shadows that made him look older than his years.

When I spoke of the Black Knight, Dayjin's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. He leaned forward in his chair, the weight of my words sinking heavily into him.

"You're certain it was him?" he asked, his voice low and measured.

"I'd know him anywhere," I said, my voice steady but cold. "The Black Knight who destroyed Winlow was the same one who confronted us tonight. His soldiers, their mounts—they were the same. But this time..." I hesitated, searching for the words. "This time, they weren't alone. Something else is in the forest. Something even they fear. He said they would return. That their work is unfinished."

Dayjin's eyes flickered toward the fire, his fingers steepled as he considered my words. Around us, the council chamber was silent. My knights stood solemnly at my side, their faces pale but resolute.

Finally, Dayjin spoke. "If the Black Knight is leading them again, this is no mere raid. This is the beginning of something much larger."

"What do we do?" one of the knights asked, his voice betraying his unease.

Dayjin turned his sharp gaze on him. "We prepare for war."

Preparing for the Worst
The lord wasted no time. His fastest rider was dispatched to the capital that very night, carrying a sealed letter for the king. It was a plea for reinforcements, supplies, and answers. While the rider disappeared into the frozen darkness, the rest of us set about fortifying the city.

Guards were doubled on the walls, their eyes sharp and their bows ready. The gates were reinforced, and patrols were sent to scout the surrounding areas. The people were warned to stay inside after dark, and those living in the outskirts were urged to seek refuge within the city walls.

Yet, even as we worked tirelessly, the fae made their presence known.

Smoke began to rise in the distance as small farms were raided, their fields scorched and their livestock slaughtered. The caravans we relied on for food and goods were ambushed before they could reach the gates, their drivers butchered, their wagons left in ruins.