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Shadows of Virtue

Chapter One

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

17th September, 2024

All Rights Reserved.

AUTHORS NOTES: This story was partially inspired by this one, by the dear Daelazar (https://daelazar.sofurry.com/ ) here on Sofurry.

His tale that inspired me: https://www.sofurry.com/view/795478. please, go give it a read! I recommend it.

Also, my long-time (and suffering) friend, Vincent VanHorne.

Shadows of Virtue

Chapter One

Thunder cracked across the sky, and rain poured down in relentless sheets, drenching Squire Wynne to her core. She stood firm, her cloven hooves sinking slightly into the muddy ground, eyes narrowed with unyielding focus. Her blade gripped tightly with both hands, gleamed under the darkening sky, its edge flashing with the lightning as she struck at her foe.

Her trials had been gruelling, each battle a testament to her grit and determination. Her armour, heavy and soaked, clung to her aching body, but her spirit burned with an unwavering resolve. Tonight was not just a fight for her life—it was a fight for her knighthood, for honour, for the right to stand alongside the order as a knight. For years, she had endured scepticism and scorn, the whispers even questioning her place and her worth.

Tonight, she vowed, she would prove them all wrong.

Her opponent, a massive, armoured Minotaur, roared as he raised his colossal axe, aiming to cleave the doe in two. Wynne rolled aside as the axe descended, the blade slicing through the mud where she had been. She moved swiftly, her steps precise, as she darted behind the beast and struck with all her will and intent. Her sword pierced through the gap in the creature's armour, cutting through its thick hide and corrupted heart. The Minotaur staggered, then fell muzzle-first into the mud, lifeless and defeated.

Silence gripped the arena, broken only by the patter of rain and Wynne's ragged breaths. She pushed herself up from her knees, gripping her blade, and then she knelt before the High Lord, her head bowed in obeisance. With the last of her faltering strength, she planted her sword, point first into the ground, a symbol of her submission and respect.

The minutes felt like hours as she waited, her heart pounding in her chest. Doubt crept in—had her sacrifice been enough? Was she truly worthy?

Heavy, armoured boots approached through the mud, the sound of steel being drawn making her wince. Despite the harsh reality of her situation, Wynne remained steadfast, her resolve unshaken by the ominous trials.

I passed my trials, she thought fiercely. They must accept me.

A heavy touch on her shoulder, the flat edge of a gleaming blade, gentle but firm, was followed by its counterpart on her other shoulder, and finally, on her helmed head.

“Squire Wynne of the Silverwood,” a voice declared after an eternity. “No longer shall you be addressed as such. Before the Gods and your brother knights, I proclaim your new name. Lady Wynne of the Silverwood. Hail, hail, hail—sister!”

A chorus of voices, both human and otherwise, erupted in hails and cheers. The sound of armoured boots stamping on the stone amphitheatre drowned out the rain and thunder. A gauntleted hand reached out, cupping her chin and lifting her head. Wynne rose, her heart swelling with pride as she was honoured in the presence of the High Lord. No longer a squire—now--a knight.

*

The forest was dense, its trees towering over her like ancient guardians. Lady Wynne moved as quietly as her armoured form would permit, her ears twitching, nostrils flaring, eyes darting everywhere. The cool breeze stirred the leaves around her cloven, armour clad hooves. Her newly bestowed armour gleamed, the sigil of the order proudly engraved upon her chest plate.

Lady Wynne's heart and mind were clear: find her mount, the symbol of her knighthood, virtuousness and virginity. Tradition held that a paladin's true strength came not from their skill with arms, their virtuous and chivalrous nature, or even their faith. No, it came when they bonded with their mount, their steed who would fight alongside, and carry the knight into battle and glory. Lady Wynne had set her heart on something that had never been imagined. It would not be an ordinary mount. No. Nothing so mundane as a warhorse, this would be a true representation of her purity and mirror her very soul. Even the thought of a great stag, whilst tempting, would not suffice for her ambitions and desire. Her quest had brought her to the Silverwood, her heart drawn by only one creature she could truly bond with...

"A Unicorn?" They had said, before staring at her in disbelief. "Only the purest of the pure, those truly worthy, may bond to such a creature!"

They had not believed one such as her could live up to such a high, lofty goal.

I will prove them all wrong...

For days, she had searched through forest after forest, following the faintest of rumours or even fantastical tales spoken of as myth and rumour in the inns in which she stayed. Her body ached from travel, from the weight of the armour designed for a stag, yet her resolve never wavered. She knew her mount would be unlike any other in the entire order's history, for she herself, was no ordinary knight. She had earned this honour through tears, blood and sweat, and she would not falter now.

Deeper, ever deeper, she ventured, the more the world seemed to shift around her. The forest grew quieter, the air stiller. Even the birds, whose songs had filled the woods, fell silent as she approached a clearing. Sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dapples over her fur and armour alike.

There, standing in the centre of the clearing, was a creature of such majestic beauty that Wynne's breath caught in her throat.

The Unicorn.

His coat was the purest white she had ever seen, gleaming in the light like freshly fallen snow. His mane and tail flowed like silk, beautiful, iridescent, like the finest of silver. His horn, long and spiralled, shimmered with an arterial glow. He was proud, noble, majestic...

Perfect.

Wynne's heart raced. She took a step forwards, then fell to one knee before the majestic beats, bowing her head in reverence. "I am Lady Wynne of the Silverwood," she spoke, her voice quiet, respectful. "I would seek to bond with you, as is the custom of my order, if you find me worthy, Forest Lord."

For a moment, the Unicorn stood motionless, his luminous eyes fixed on Wynne. Time itself seemed to hold its breath. She felt her heart pounding against her armoured chest, each beat louder than the last as if it was trying to break free of the uncertainty that gripped her. The air between them was thick with unspoken power, and Wynne's entire body tensed, her muscles quivering under the weight of the moment.

The Unicorn took a slow, deliberate step forward, and Wynne's breath caught in her throat. His eyes, ancient and deep as the forest itself, locked onto hers, and she felt a warmth spreading over her, yet it was not comforting—it was searching. His gaze was not one of mere curiosity but one of piercing judgement, stripping her bare of armour, title and rank.

Could he sense her doubts? Those moments, not fear, as a paladin knew not such a thing, but that sense she would be found wanting in his eyes? Would he find her unworthy?

He circled her slowly, his ivory hooves soundless on the forest floor. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, seeming to scent not only the air but her very essence of being. The leaves above rustled and whispered secrets in the wind, but all Wynne could hear was the racing of her own heart and the Unicorn's soft, rhythmic breathing as he moved. Every second stretched into an eternity, and Wynne's mind raced with thoughts of failure, doubt and indecision gnawing at the edges of her resolve and conviction.

He paused behind her, his presence looming. She felt his eyes on her back, the weight of his scrutiny almost unbearable. Her hooves sank deeper into the soil, and for the briefest moment, she dared not even blink, afraid that the slightest movement might break whatever fragile thread of hope still tethered her to this one chance.

Had he misunderstood her worth? Was the purity of her body and soul not enough for one such as he?

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to remain still, to remain humble, though every instinct screamed to look up, to beg for his approval. She had fought for years, struggled against a world that doubted her, an order that looked down on her! Now, here, before this ancient creature, she was stripped of all pretence. It was no longer about her accomplishments or trials—this-- was her true test.

He came around to face her once more, his horn shimmering with an ethereal glow. His gaze remained unreadable, inscrutable, but still, he held his silence. Wynne dared glance up into his eyes, and in that moment, she felt something deep inside her shift. It was as thought he could see not just her deeds, but her thoughts, her emotions, every triumph, every shameful failure, every secret fear. He saw her entire journey—her pride, her pain, her persistence—and still he did not speak.

Her breath came sallow, waiting, hopeful.

Then, slowly, gracefully, the Unicorn bowed his head. His spiralled horn glowing with the soft light of the forest, touched her armoured head. A sudden warmth radiated from the point of contact, spreading through her body like fire and light intertwined. It was as if the forest itself sighed in relief, and Wynne felt something ancient awaken deep within her. A connection was forged, not through words or gestures, but through a bond older than time itself.

You are worthy, came the Unicorn's voice, not spoken aloud, but echoing in the deepest recesses of her mind, filling her with a power and peace she had never known. Together_, we shall achieve greatness. I will accept you as my rider, from this day until our last._

*

The gates of the Silverwood Order's stronghold loomed ahead, their imposing presence casting long shadows in the fading light of dusk. Lady Wynne, her armour gleaming with a freshly polished sheen, rode confidently up to the great gates, astride her unicorn mount. The creature's coat shimmered like moonlight on a still pond, its aura radiating a serene glow that seemed to command reverence.

As they approached, the members of the order gathered to witness her return. Their initial murmurs of surprise and disbelief filled the ar, mingling with the distant rumble of thunder. Eyes shifted uneasily from Wynne to the unicorn, and whispers of disbelief threaded through the crowd.

Wynne's heart swelled with pride. She lifted her chin high, her gaze sweeping over the assembled knights, squires and servants. “Behold, my new companion!” she declared, her voice ringing with triumph. “The unicorn of legend, now bound to me, as I am to him.”

Her words were met with hesitant applause. The knights exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of incredulity and wariness. Unicorns were rare and sacred creatures, their appearance in the mortal realm almost mythical. The order's elders looked on with a discerning eye, their faces unreadable behind their ornate helms.

In the stables, the warhorses and great stags shifted uneasily at the sight of the unicorn. Their bodies tensed, and their eyes, usually so calm, were wide with distress and confusion. The heavy scent of their fear mingled with the earthy smell of damp wood and hay.

Wynne walked beside the stallion, her hand resting lightly on his neck, a nervous stable boy staring wide eyed at the majestic creatures passage.

Wynne noticed the discomfort but dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “Fear not, noble steeds, he is not a threat, calm your spirits and minds, it is only the coming storm you sense.”

The unicorn, with a soft, knowing gaze, observed the warhorses and stags. His eyes gleamed with an inner light, and he tilted his head slightly, almost as if considering the situation. With a subtle movement, he lowered his horn and whispered a gentle incantation, his magick barely perceptible but undeniably present. The air around the unicorn seemed to shimmer, and a calming aura spread outward.

Instantly, the warhorses and stags relaxed. Their nervous snorts, grunts and twitching ceased, and their eyes, once filled with unease, now regarded the unicorn with a mix of calm reverence. The subtle transformation was almost imperceptible, but the change in their demeanour was clear.

Wynne's chest swelled with satisfaction as she stepped into the stable, the echoes of the admiration from the others still ringing in her ears. Her pride in her recent accomplishment had reached new heights, overshadowing any lingering doubts or concerns. The unicorn, her new mount and symbol of her achievement, stood calmly in his stall, his coat shimmering softly in the torchlight.

The flickering torch mounted beside the stall cast erratic shadows on the stable's stone walls. As Wynne approached him, the unicorn's gaze lingered on the flame, a subtle shiver running through his form. His voice, soothing and resonant, seemed to seep into her very soul, filling her heart with an unexpected warmth.

The flame_ frightens me;_ his words formed in her mind telepathically and were imbued with an earnest plea. Can you please take it away? Fire is a destructive force, not something that should be so casually wielded. Especially around... such dry and combustible things.

Wynne's brow furrowed slightly as she processed his request. The torch's sputtering flame danced and surged, casting fleeting, distorted shadows that flickered across the walls. Almost as if in a trance, she moved towards the torch, her steps light and deliberate. Her fingers closed around the handle of the torch, feeling its warmth against her skin.

Without fully realising what she was doing, Wynne lifted the torch from its sconce and walked towards a nearby bucket of water. The flicker of the flame grew dimmer as she approached and she dipped the torch into the bucket. The water hissed and bubbled as the flame was extinguished, leaving his stall bathed in the shadows, the other torches illuminating the stalls and their inhabitants.

As the fire was extinguished, Wynne's attention was momentarily drawn to the stable's stone wall. For a brief second, as the torch's light had dimmed, the unicorn's shadow seemed to waver at the edges, as if struggling to settle into a coherent shape. The effect was so subtle, it was almost imperceptible, a fleeting distortion that quickly vanished as the torchlight was fully extinguished.

Wynne's focus quickly returned to her task, and she gave the unicorn a reassuring smile. “There, it's gone,” she said, her voice filled with a gentle confidence. “You're safe now, my mount. Rest well.”

He nuzzled her hand in gratitude, his eyes gleaming that luminous glow, his expression inscrutable as Wynne felt a minute tingle flow over her. She blinked, her heart swelling with love and devotion. As she left the stable, her steps light and heart full, the unicorn watched her with a gaze e that remained calm, the shadows around him falling into their usual, unremarkable patterns.

May your dreams, my rider, bring you your heart's desire. Come the thoughts in her head, before she crossed the threshold of the stables.

As she left, a mixture of pride and unease settled over her, before she adopted the expected facial expression and mannerisms of a member of the order. Rigid stoicism and tight control. Yet her mind was free to wander as it will. The majestic unicorn, now hers, had been a dream come true, yet there was a subtle undercurrent of something unsettling that she couldn't quite place. The hairs on her nape prickled, and a shiver rippled up her spine. She shook off the feeling as she made her way to her chambers, eager to shed her armour and wash off the grime and sweat of the day and prepare for a meal and sleep.

The moonlight streamed through the narrow windows of her chamber, casting elongated shadows across the stone walls. She settled into bed, the rough linens cool against her fur, but her mind was restless. Finally, as sleep began to claim her, the distant echo of the unicorn's presence seemed to linger, a whisper of something unfamiliar and alluring.

In the dream that followed, Wynne found herself in a lush, otherworldly forest bathed in twilight. The trees were adorned in shimmering, silver leaves that rustled with a soft, seductive murmur. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and something else—something intoxicating.

There, in the centre of the dreamscape, stood the unicorn. He was even more radiant, his coat glowing with an ethereal light. He approached her slowly, his eyes filled with an enigmatic promise. His touch was gentle yet electric as his muzzle brushed against her cheek, sending a shiver rippling up her spine once more.

Wynne's heart raced, and her breath quickened as the unicorn's presence seemed to envelop her. He leaned in closer, his touch now more intimate, and his soft, warm breath grazed her ear. The sensations were foreign, stirring desires she had long buried beneath her duty and discipline. The dream grew increasingly vivid, filled with sensations of warmth and closeness that made her pulse quicken and her body flush.

She felt a wave of guilt and confusion as these illicit desires stirred within her, clashing violently with the ideals she had sworn to uphold. The sensations, though not overtly explicit, were intensely provocative, leaving her panting and tangled in the sheets.

Suddenly, she jolted awake, her body drenched in sweat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a trembling wave of shame washed over her. The dream was a stark contrast to her paladin vows of purity and chastity. The very thoughts that had invaded her dreams were ones she could never entertain, and she felt a deep-seated anxiety at their intrusion.

Desperately trying to calm her racing heart, Wynne forced herself out of bed. The cold air of the stone chamber was a stark reminder of her duty, lashing her sweat slick fur and skin with cruel and biting intensity. She embraced it, as she reaffirmed her oaths, clinging to these words as a grounding force. She moved swiftly, pulling on a loose robe and moving to the bathing chamber, the water promising to cleanse not only her body but her troubled mind.

As she bathed, the scent of her sweat and the lingering warmth of her dream seemed to dissolve with each passing moment, but the unease remained. The water flowed over her, soothing her skin, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. The unicorn's touch, his presence in her dream, it left a residue of confusion and longing that she struggled to dismiss.

She emerged from the bath, her body clean but her mind still clouded. As she dried herself and dressed in her robe again, she tried to push away the disquieting thoughts. The unicorn was a symbol of her triumph, her reward for her dedication, not a source of inner turmoil. Yet, the dream had left its mark, and Wynne knew she would need to confront these feelings if she was to continue on her righteous, virtuous path.

With a determined sigh, she resolved to double her focus on her duties and maintain her steadfast resolve. She would not let the temptations and shadows of her dreams undermine her purpose. As she extinguished the last of the candlelight and settled back into bed, she tried to silence the whispers of the night, hoping that tomorrow would bring her clarity and reassurance.

TO BE CONTINUED...