the dark nightmare

episode one: the beginning

**The Dark Knightmare**

**Chapter 1: The Black Dawn**

The morning sun painted the sky in

golden hues as Shawn Carter adjusted

his tie in the mirror. Today was

supposed to be his first big case as a

newly graduated lawyer—a simple

contract dispute, but a win would

cement his reputation in New York’s

cutthroat legal world. His apartment in

downtown Manhattan buzzed with the

usual sounds of the city: honking cabs,

distant chatter, the hum of life.

Then, without warning, the light

vanished.

Shawn frowned, glancing out the

window. The sky, clear and blue just

seconds ago, had turned an inky black.

Not a cloud in sight—just pure,

consuming darkness. The city’s lights

flickered, then died, plunging everything

into an eerie silence. No sirens, no

screams. Just… nothing.

His phone buzzed violently in his pocket.

A single notification flashed:

**"They’re coming."**

Shawn’s breath hitched. *Who sent this?

The screen went black before he could

check. Outside, the darkness seemed to

pulse, as if alive. Then, a sound—distant

at first, then closer—a low, guttural

growl, like metal scraping against bone.

His instincts screamed at him to run, but

his legs refused to move. The air grew

thick, suffocating. Shadows slithered

along the walls of his apartment,

twisting into shapes that shouldn’t

—elongated limbs, hollow eyes, grinning

mouths with too many teeth.

A whisper echoed in his mind: *"You’ve

been chosen."*

Then, the screaming started.

Somewhere below, glass shattered. A car

alarm wailed before cutting off abruptly.

Shawn finally snapped out of his

paralysis and bolted for the door, but it

wouldn’t budge. The lock was intact, yet

something held it shut—something

*stronger*.

The growling intensified, now right

outside his window. He turned slowly,

heart pounding.

The glass shattered.

A figure loomed in the darkness—tall,

clad in jagged armor that seemed to

drink in the light. Its helmet was

featureless except for two crimson slits

where eyes should be. It reached for him

with a gauntleted hand, and Shawn

stumbled back, tripping over the coffee

table.

"Shawn Carter," the thing rasped, its

voice like nails on a chalkboard. "The

scales of justice… are broken."

Then, everything went black.

**Consciousness Returned in Waves**

Shawn gasped awake, his body drenched

in cold sweat. He was no longer in his

apartment. Instead, he lay on a cracked

concrete floor, the air thick with the

scent of rust and decay. Dim, flickering

lights buzzed overhead, casting long,

distorted shadows.

*Where the hell am I?*

He pushed himself up, his muscles

aching as if he’d been unconscious for

hours. The room was vast—some kind of

abandoned warehouse, its walls lined

with strange symbols etched in what

looked like dried blood. A distant

dripping sound echoed, rhythmic and

unnerving.

Then, a voice—human this time.

"You’re awake."

Shawn spun around. A woman stood a

few feet away, her dark eyes sharp with

urgency. She wore a tattered leather

jacket, her fingers wrapped tightly

around a rusted iron pipe.

"Who are you?" Shawn demanded, his

voice hoarse. "What the hell is going

on?"

"Name’s Lina," she said, stepping closer.

"And you, Shawn Carter, just got pulled

into a war you didn’t know existed."

"A war?" He scoffed, running a hand

through his disheveled hair. "Look, I

don’t know what kind of prank this is,

but—"

"It’s no prank," she interrupted. "That

thing that came for you? It’s called a

Reaper. And it’s not the only one."

Shawn’s stomach twisted. The memory

of that armored figure sent a chill down

his spine. "What do they want?"

Lina’s expression darkened. "They feed

on fear. On despair. And right now,

they’re turning this city into a hunting

ground."

A loud *thud* echoed from somewhere

deeper in the warehouse. Lina’s grip

tightened on the pipe.

"We need to move. Now."

**The Shadows Were Alive**

They moved through the labyrinth of

crumbling hallways, the darkness

pressing in from all sides. Every so

often, Shawn caught glimpses of

movement—shadows that slithered just

out of sight, whispers that weren’t quite

words.

"Keep your eyes forward," Lina muttered.

"Don’t look at them too long."

Shawn swallowed hard. "What happens

if I do?"

She didn’t answer.

A door creaked open ahead, revealing a

dimly lit chamber. Inside, a group of

survivors huddled together—men and

women, their faces gaunt with

exhaustion. Some bore fresh wounds,

their bandages stained red.

One man, older with a grizzled beard,

stepped forward. "So, you’re the new

one."

Shawn blinked. "You were expecting

me?"

The man smirked, though there was no

humor in it. "We’ve all seen you in the

visions. The lawyer who doesn’t know

he’s the key."

*Visions? Key?* Shawn’s head spun.

"None of this makes sense."

"It will," the man said grimly. "When the

Knightmare comes for you again."

Lina placed a hand on Shawn’s shoulder.

"Rest for now. Tomorrow, we fight."

But as Shawn sat among the strangers,

one thought consumed him:

*What if I’m not the hero they think I am?

**The Night Was Only Beginning**

Sleep didn’t come.

Every time Shawn closed his eyes, he

saw *it*—the Reaper, its crimson gaze

burning into him. The whispers returned,

louder now, murmuring fragments of a

language he shouldn’t understand but

somehow did.

*"The balance must be restored…"*

A hand shook him awake. Lina’s face

was pale. "They found us."

The ground trembled. Somewhere above,

the roof groaned under immense weight.

Then—

*CRASH.*

Debris rained down as the Reaper tore

through the ceiling, its armor gleaming

like polished obsidian. The survivors

scattered, screaming.

Shawn barely had time to react before

the creature lunged—not at him, but at

the old man. Its blade flashed, and the

man fell, his blood pooling on the

concrete.

Lina grabbed Shawn’s arm. "RUN!"

But the Reaper turned its head, those

hellish eyes locking onto Shawn.

*"You cannot escape judgment."*

And then, the world erupted in chaos.

**To be continued…**