Chapter 1: Black Sword and Crimson Scales (Part-2)

  ?Three days earlier...

  ?The darkness of the cave was absolute, save for the rhythmic, metallic rasp of a whetstone against steel. The Black Knight sat motionless, his armor dull in the dim light. He didn't sleep; he only waited.

  ?As the first sliver of dawn bled through the mountain crags, he rose. His movements were clinical—checking the straps of his pauldrons, securing the heavy black blade to his back, and gathering his few supplies. He stepped out of the cave, the cold mountain air biting at his exposed skin, expecting the silence of the wilderness.

  ?He didn't get it.

  ?There was a frantic, desperate scrabbling of claws against stone, followed by a heavy thud as something collided violently with his chest.

  ?The Knight didn't stagger, but he caught the figure instinctively. It was small, trembling, and radiated a heat that felt like a furnace.

  ?He looked down.

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  ?Before him stood a girl—or something that barely resembled one. Her skin was marked with shimmering crimson scales that caught the morning light like spilled blood. Two curved dragon horns protruded from her forehead, and a slender, whip-like tail lashed nervously behind her. Her back was marred by two leathery wings, now folded tight against her spine.

  ?But it was the metal that caught the Knight’s gaze. Heavy, rusted manacles bit into the base of her wings, her slender wrists, and—most cruelly—clamped over her mouth, silencing any scream she might have had.

  ?She didn't look at him with malice; she looked at him with the hollow, wide-eyed terror of something that had been hunted.

  ?From the tree line above, the chattering began—a wet, guttural clicking. A pack of Goblins, their skin the color of swamp rot, emerged with jagged rusted blades. They had slaughtered the slaver caravan that held her, not for mercy, but to claim the prize for themselves.

  ?The leader, a particularly gaunt creature with a missing eye, pointed a crooked finger at the girl. It sneered, oblivious to the man in black armor standing between them.

  ?The Black Knight’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. He didn't look at the Goblins. He looked at the girl’s eyes—the way she flinched, expecting a blow that wasn't coming.

  ?"Run," he whispered, though he knew she couldn't hear him through the iron gag.

  ?He stepped forward, his shadow growing long and jagged against the rock wall. The Goblins charged, a screeching tide of filth and greed.

  ?The Black Knight drew his blade. The metal didn't whistle; it groaned as it left the scabbard, thirsty and cold.