The legend of Terse
If the legends were true then this had to be the place. The Midnight Forest without question loomed before him. The setting sun had only added to it’s already ominous features, wide expanse of densely-packed trees, dry brittle thorn-infested thorn bushes and no glimmer of light seen to penetrate it’s canopy.
Terse sat atop his horse, hood pulled over his head shrouding his features. His face wrap blocking out the chill as he squinted slowly from left to right. He knew what types of evil awaited him beyond these woods. He knew the peril. The deafening silence that accompanied him while gazing out into this blackened wood with only the moon to guide him would have been a daunting task for anyone.
As he strode toward the forest he thought only of what lay beyond. His destiny. The weapon that would alter the course of humanity. The sword to save mankind. All he had to do was retrieve it. But first he would need to reach it. And the miles of evil-filled tightly packed forest would do everything to stop him.