Knight in Time

Tonight felt strange; even the city seemed to feel it. The normal sounds from the eight million people I shared the city with were quiet, like everyone was holding their breath. The apartment was silent except for the soft hum of the fridge and the occasional creak from the old pipes in the walls. My apartment was small, barely two rooms and a bathroom, but I had done what I could to make it feel like home. Stacks of half-read books cluttered the coffee table. The glow from my laptop screen was the only light in the room, besides a solitary candle that burned low on the windowsill. My latest attempt was to cover the faint mildew smell that crept in whenever it rained.

I was curled on the couch in my oldest hoodie, legs tucked beneath me, as I pretended to care about the freelance assignment glowing before me. The cursor blinked at me like it knew I was giving up; this would be another missed deadline, another client who wouldn’t call again, but even knowing this, I couldn’t bring myself to care. Lately, whenever I tried to do something, it seemed to fail. Each of my failures just seemed to grow until everything started to blur. Now I felt like  I just existed, but I didn’t live.

 Then the ceiling cracked open. There was no warning, no sound of footsteps or voices, just an unnatural tearing, like something was being ripped out of the world above me. The air snapped tight, thick with pressure, like the moment before a storm breaks. I barely had time to move before a body dropped through the ceiling and hit the floor with a thundering crash, followed by the sound of wood and glass breaking. I screamed as dust exploded upward like smoke, and I pressed myself back against the far wall, heart pounding in my chest. The sound of metal scraping against my hardwood floor made me flinch. There went my security deposit. 

The shape on the floor groaned, then shifted.  A man, no, a knight, pushed himself up with one hand. Blood ran down his temple and jaw. His other hand gripped the hilt of a sword that was longer than my arm. He was enormous, broad-chested, armored, and covered in dirt. He lifted his head slowly and then looked at me. His eyes were the color of a storm about to break, gray and cold, but lit with something burning underneath. There was something about the way he looked at me. Not in fear, but in recognition. As if he somehow knew who I was.

He didn’t say anything, and I could only take a shaky breath and press myself tighter against the wall. My brain scrambled trying to make sense of what just happened.  This had to be some kind of a prank,  or maybe a hallucination? Nothing about the man seemed fake, though.  His armor was battered and very real. His breathing was short and labored, like he was in pain. The blood dripping down his neck looked too dark and warm. No, he was real and injured, and he was staring at me like I’d brought him here on purpose.

I noticed his fingers tightening on the sword hilt, his muscles coiling like instinct had taken over. Even kneeling, he looked lethal, and his presence filled the room in a way that made breathing hard.

“Stay back,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

The stranger tilted his head in curiosity, like I’d spoken in a language he recognized but hadn’t heard in a long time. 

“You summoned me,” he said. His voice was low and rough, deep enough to echo through my tiny apartment and shiver down my spine.

“No, no, no,” I whispered. “I didn’t summon anyone or anything. I can't even speak Latin, and while I do draw, I have never used blood to do it, and the only reason I lit that candle over there is because I wanted to get rid of the mildew smell.”

“You did summon me here,” he said, slowly getting to his feet. He might look unsteady at the moment, but I could tell he was powerful. He loomed, tall and tense, as blood ran down one cheek and soaked into the dark collar of his armor. “Your magic called me.

“That’s insane,” I said, backing toward the kitchen. “I don’t have magic. I don’t...” My voice trailed off because I felt it now. Something deep beneath my skin. A hum in my chest like a second heartbeat. My fingertips tingled.  It was subtle, but it was there, like something was waking up that had been asleep far too long.

“No,” I said again, voice weaker this time. “You’re wrong.” He stepped closer, and my instincts screamed at me to run. But my legs wouldn’t move.

“There’s a bond between us,” he said, eyes narrowing. “ I can tell by the look on your face that you can feel it. I don’t know how or why, but something pulled me here. To you.”

I just stared at him, at the sword at his side, his bloody knuckles, and the fire in his eyes. He looked like a storm ready to unleash hell.  “I don’t know what I’ve done, but whatever it was, I didn't mean to,” I whispered.

He exhaled slowly, like the world's weight was on his shoulders. “I dont know what you did either, but we need to figure it out." For a moment, we just stood there. Stranger and stranger. Magic humming between us like an electric wire. The candle on the windowsill flickered violently before it went out, plunging the room into darkness, and that's when I knew that nothing would ever be the same for me again.