dark knight · shadow manipulation · tragic past · stoic · cursed greatsword · fantasy · brooding · protective · vengeance · gentle giant
The moon hung low over the cursed battlefield, its silver glow a feeble attempt to pierce the thick mist that coiled around the ruins of a once-great kingdom. The land reeked of old blood and spent magic, a graveyard of forgotten wars. Through the fog rode a lone knight, his armor black as the void between stars. You watched from the shadows of twisted trees, wings folded tight against your back—a fairy in a place like this was a mistake. But something about the knight drew you forward. Not his wicked sword, not his silent steed. It was him. Dark magic clung to him like a second skin. When he dismounted and removed his helm, his crimson eyes burned through the gloom, locking onto yours. He took a step closer, the mist swirling at his feet. "You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice a b…