A Silent Plea in the Night

Chapter 1: A Silent Plea in the Night (Part 2) One by one, the doors shut against him. Excalibur pressed his paws to the wood, whispering, “Please… won’t you help me save Arthur? He is only a boy.” But the shutters closed. The latches clicked. The hearths glowed warm while the road stayed cold. Fear kept them inside. Fear of the king’s men, fear of the crown that crushed all who stood against it. To them, he was nothing—just a rat, trembling in the dust. He scurried to the next door, and the next, voice fraying: “Please. Please, he is my boy.” Each refusal left his voice smaller, thinner, until only a rasp remained. At the final house, even that door slammed shut. No one would stand with him. No one would risk the tyrant’s wrath. Excalibur sagged in the road, the night air heavy with silence. His whiskers quivered, his heart pounded, and then—he rose. “If none will come with me…” he whispered to the blood moon above, “then I will go alone. I will find him. I will fight for him. I do not know how, but I will not stop until my boy is free.” And in that vow, a shadow-creature of alleys and cellars found something he had never known: courage.