Night Knight - Shadow Over Leipzig

The old Germanic town of Leipzig was a labyrinth of cobbled streets, its shadowed alleys alive with whispers of fear. Fog clung to the buildings, obscuring details but amplifying the ominous aura that pervaded the night. Though the town's architecture spoke of a rich history, its nights were a battlefield where humanity wrestled against unseen horrors. 

And in the heart of this struggle were the Crows—knights who thrived in shadow, sworn to protect mankind from the monsters that hunted them. Their sacred duty had stood unchallenged for centuries, until he came. The Masked Man. A figure whose presence turned the tide, bringing chaos not only to the monsters but to the Crows themselves. His arrival had become a herald of darker times—a signal of something far worse than mere beasts lurking in the night. 

A figure walked down the deserted streets, his long cloak trailing behind him like ink spreading across parchment. A mask concealed his face, but his presence radiated power—an oppressive blend of dread and order. Each step he took was measured, deliberate, as though he held dominion over the very night. 

He passed unnoticed by most, his form blending with the dense crowd in Leipzig's market square. But not all were blind to him. 

Leonardo Sparkvenn, a herald of the shadows and a veteran Crow, moved with practiced precision. His ghost-white hair spilled over his shoulders, and his sharp eyes never left the Masked Man. He kept his katana—Shade Bringer—ready, its living blade humming faintly within its sheath. Amplified by the shadows themselves, Shade Bringer was a weapon of legend, capable of cutting through anything, or anyone. 

As he trailed his quarry, Leonardo felt a familiar presence stir within his cloak. A tendril of shadow snaked out, curling gently around his arm. 

Shadow Mother: Leo, my son. 

Her voice was soft yet commanding, echoing within his mind. Leonardo's Victorian-era attire, a contrast of elegance and menace, concealed the true extent of his connection to the shadow entity that had raised him. 

"We've been chasing him for years," Leonardo muttered under his breath. "If I can catch him, maybe… just maybe, the monster attacks will finally stop." 

The Masked Man slipped into an alley, disappearing into the fog. Leonardo's grip tightened on his blade as he darted after him, the shadows boosting his speed while keeping him eerily silent. 

The alley twisted and turned, narrowing into a maze that seemed designed to disorient. The Masked Man moved ahead with a purpose, his hand emerging from his cloak to drop a crystalline device. It shattered on the cobblestones, releasing a hissing amalgamation of limbs and teeth—a Galco. 

Without hesitation, Leonardo unsheathed Shade Bringer. The blade shimmered with darkness as it cleaved through the creature in a single, fluid motion. The remains of the Galco disintegrated into shards of crystal, which were devoured by the tendrils from Leonardo's cloak. 

Leonardo leapt to the rooftops, his movements swift and precise. He pursued the Masked Man from above, but something was wrong. Each turn brought him back to the same spot, the same alley. Realization dawned on him like a chilling wind. 

"A loop?" he muttered, his breath visible in the cold air. "Mother, what's going on?" 

Shadow Mother: A trap. He's woven the shadows against us. 

Leonardo cursed under his breath. The Masked Man's cunning had always kept him just out of reach. "He's always two steps ahead," Leonardo said, his voice laced with frustration. "I can beat him in a fair fight, but this?" 

He drew Shade Bringer, its dark aura enveloping him. "If it's a loop, I'll cut through it." 

Shadow Mother: Be careful. The fabric of reality is fragile. 

Leonardo chuckled bitterly. "Let's hope I don't slice through every dimension. Here goes nothing." 

As he prepared to strike, the faint sound of sizzling meat and cheerful chatter reached his ears. Confusion flickered across his face. He glanced around and realized he was back in Leipzig, standing where he had first entered the maze. The crowd buzzed with life, oblivious to the danger that loomed above. 

A drop of blood splattered on the cobblestones near him. Leonardo's head snapped upward, his eyes narrowing in alarm. The rooftops were filled with masked cultists, their hands raised as they chanted in unison. Blood flowed freely from their palms, defying gravity as it spiraled into the sky, forming a summoning circle that glowed with a crimson hue. 

"No…" Leonardo whispered. His hand instinctively went to his hilt. 

The summoning circle cracked open, revealing a void of writhing darkness. A single clawed finger, black as night and impossibly large, pushed through. The air grew heavy, suffocating with the weight of an otherworldly presence. 

The cultists' chanting grew louder, their masked faces turned toward the abyss with reverence. Leonardo's heart raced as he scanned the crowd. Innocent civilians—elders, children, families—stood frozen in terror. He couldn't risk a full attack without endangering them. 

"Damn it!" he growled, gripping Shade Bringer tightly. "Mother, I'm out of options." 

Shadow Mother: Do what you must, my son. 

Leonardo unleashed the reality-cutting slash he had prepared. The blade's dark energy roared upward, severing the demonic finger before it could fully emerge. The severed nail plummeted to the ground, embedding itself in the street. But before the dust could settle, time froze. 

Leonardo stood paralyzed, unable to move as the world around him turned still. From the crowd, the Masked Man stepped forward, his movements deliberate. He approached Leonardo, his masked visage inscrutable. 

Without a word, he pulled a relic from his cloak—an artifact, ancient and terrible. Its design was grotesque, its purpose unmistakable. The device stirred to life, its latch opening like a ravenous mouth. Before Leonardo could react, it launched forward, engulfing him in an instant. The Shadow Mother's scream echoed in the void as she was severed from her host. Which forced her to retreat to the shadows.

As time resumed, the demonic nail dissolved into ash. The cultists vanished, their sacrifice complete. The Masked Man stood alone, holding Shade Bringer, now transformed into something darker, more malevolent. He sheathed the blade and slipped into the shadows, his plans shrouded in mystery. 

The citizens of Leipzig, their memories altered by another magical device, continued their lives as though nothing had happened. The only remnant of the night's horrors was a single, blackened scar on the cobblestones, a silent testament to the power and ambition of the cult that loomed ever closer to its ultimate goal. 

A few days had passed since the harrowing events in Leipzig. The fog had thickened, shrouding the streets in a ghostly veil. Yet, life continued in the quiet corners of the town, where stories of the past wove through generations. 

In one of the many quaint houses, an old grandmother sat in her rocking chair by the hearth. The warm glow of the fire illuminated her weathered face as she spoke to her three grandchildren, her voice a blend of wisdom and nostalgia. They gathered in a half-circle on the wooden floor, the smell of baked bread lingering faintly in the air. 

Klaus, the oldest, leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oma, can you tell us the story of the Crows again?" he asked eagerly, his voice filled with a childlike wonder that refused to dim. 

Claudia and Wolfgang, his younger siblings, groaned in unison. Claudia crossed her arms, and Wolfgang slumped dramatically, his face buried in his hands. 

"Come on, Klaus! You always ask for this one," Wolfgang protested, his tone dripping with annoyance. 

"Yeah, we already know how it ends," Claudia added, rolling her eyes. 

Klaus glanced at them with a mischievous smirk before turning back to his grandmother. He was undeterred. 

Oma chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling as she regarded her grandchildren. "Well," she said, "since Klaus loves this story so much… and since it's my favorite too, I suppose I can tell it again." 

Claudia sighed, already resigning herself to hearing the tale for the umpteenth time. She shifted her weight and muttered under her breath, "Guess this is the only story we'll hear tonight." 

Oma settled deeper into her chair, her voice lowering to a dramatic whisper. "Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, I saw them with my own eyes. Boys and girls, older than me but not quite adults. They dressed in dark garments, cloaks that seemed to swallow the light. Some even wore pieces of armor that glinted faintly in the moonlight." 

Klaus sat transfixed, his imagination painting vivid images of the mysterious knights. 

"We call them," Oma continued, leaning forward with an air of mystery, "Die Krähe." She annunciated the name with a sharp, eerie tone that made the hair on Wolfgang's neck prickle. 

Klaus grinned, his excitement only growing. 

"They never came out to play," Oma said, her voice soft but deliberate. "Only to battle. You see, these knights weren't the only ones walking the foggy streets at night. The Ungeheuer…" she paused for effect, "they came too. Mischief-makers, hunters of the weak. They'd snatch people away or attack them, leaving nothing but terror in their wake." 

Wolfgang, despite himself, peeked through his fingers at Oma, curiosity betraying his earlier complaints. 

"But the knights," Oma continued, "they fought back. They'd slay the Ungeheuer, and when they did, a crystal would shoot into the night sky. It wouldn't explode like a firework. No, it would whistle through the air, sharp and fast, like a bird taking flight." 

Claudia groaned again, but Klaus's attention never wavered. 

"Then, just as swiftly as they appeared, the knights would vanish into the shadows," Oma concluded, her voice trailing off into a soft hush. 

Wolfgang sat up suddenly, his skepticism reignited. "This story is stupid!" he blurted out. "It's not even cool, like the other ones you tell us, Oma!" 

"Yeah, it's unfair!" Claudia chimed in, her pout deepening. "You always tell whatever story Klaus wants to hear!" 

Their complaints fell on deaf ears as Klaus stood, defiance shining in his eyes. "Well, I know it's true!" he said, his voice firm. "I saw the crystals the other night, shooting up into the sky!" 

Wolfgang jumped to his feet, ready to argue, but Oma intervened, her voice soothing but commanding. "Now, children, it's time for bed. Let me tuck you in." 

Later that night, the house was silent save for the rhythmic ticking of a clock and the occasional creak of wood settling. In the shared bedroom, Klaus lay awake, his heart pounding with anticipation. A faint, melodic chime broke the stillness, like the call of a bird. His eyes snapped open, and he sat up, his breath catching as a faint blue glow illuminated his room. 

Beside him, Wolfgang snored softly, a line of drool glistening on his pillow. On the other side, Claudia had turned away, curled under her blanket. 

Another crystal streaked across the sky, its light casting fleeting shadows on the walls. Klaus's excitement was palpable as he whispered to himself, "They're here." 

He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake his siblings. Grabbing his overcoat, he shrugged it over his pajamas and picked up the lantern by the door. As he opened it, the faint creak of the hinges stirred Wolfgang, who blinked groggily. The light from the lantern shone on his face, pulling him fully awake. 

Klaus stepped into the hallway, lantern in hand, its glow moving with him. Unable to resist his curiosity, Wolfgang got up and followed his brother, trailing him quietly down the stairs. 

Outside, the fog was dense, curling around the buildings and swallowing the faint moonlight. Klaus crouched near a corner, his eyes wide with wonder. From somewhere in the distance, beyond the veil of mist, came the unmistakable sounds of clattering metal, guttural snarls, and the haunting calls of birds. 

Wolfgang finally caught up; his breath visible in the cold air. "Klaus," he whispered, his voice shaky. "What are you doing? We're going to get in so much trouble." 

Klaus didn't answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the shifting shadows ahead. "They're here, Wolfgang. The Crows are real." 

Wolfgang glanced nervously at the fog, his earlier skepticism wavering. "This is crazy…" he muttered. But even as doubt filled his words, he couldn't help but follow Klaus deeper into the mist, where the echoes of battle beckoned them into the unknown.