The Gathering of Knives
He made his way through the forest silently, his demonic stallion riding fast through the shadowy trees yet never once touching the ground. He was alone, save for the full moon above this windy night that watched over all the wilds like a stoic goddess.
Wolves howled in the distance. This land was old, first touched by the tribes of man that came here before Christ, before Rome, before even the first temples were ever built. When it was just men, the beasts, and the monsters that ruled them all.
Here, there was a promise of gold for blood. His contact had told him of a noble wealthy in riches and power, who had a job for a dark men like him and his crew. The details were sparse, but his contact gave him a key. Told him it was good for a castle’s chapel that would be where he’d meet the client.
Hook brought his best rapier and a brace of pistols in case this was a trap, but admitted to himself that the situation made him curious. Good people don’t go looking for people like him unless they have a bit of darkness they need to keep hidden...or killed.
Either way, he felt stretched out this land, like he couldn’t tell if the shadows wished to consume him or to make him part of them. He’d felt this before - Maleficent, the Dark Fairy. She had touched this place, but how or why he didn’t know.
He let out a sight of relief when he spied the castle, tall and baroque. Urging his shadow steed on, they rode upside the wall on the winds and slipped into the shadow of a tower.
Alone, he found the chapel among the walls of the keep and - unseen by mortal eyes - slipped forth the key and unlocked the door. As quiet as a snake he was in. The chapel’s stained glass wrapped around the building, each depicting a scene from the life of Christ. In the moonlight, the agony of the Messiah was etched with silver and shadows into the stone he stepped on.
“A knight comes, seeking water for his horse,” he spoke the password to the shadows.
