Beneath the Armor

The return of Sir Aldric Wren should have been a moment of celebration. The villagers had lined the streets, eager to catch a glimpse of their famed knight after years of war in distant lands. He had left as a young man, full of vigor and honor, with promises of glory. Now, he rode back into the village a legend, his silhouette towering over his steed, his armor gleaming under the late afternoon sun.

But something felt wrong.

The villagers whispered among themselves as Aldric rode past. His helmet was firmly in place, visor down, concealing his face. He acknowledged no one, not even his family. His horse, a massive black stallion, trotted through the cobblestone streets with eerie precision, hooves clattering in the silence that had suddenly fallen over the crowd.

Behind him, there were no companions, no squire to carry his banner, no sign of the men who had left with him. Only Sir Aldric had returned.

His father, old Lord Wren, was the first to greet him at the entrance of their ancestral manor. "Aldric, my son!" the old man called, his voice cracking with age and emotion. "You’ve returned at last. Come, take off that helmet, let me see your face."

Aldric did not respond. He simply dismounted, his heavy armor clanking with each movement, and walked past his father without a word. The old man’s joy faltered, a flicker of confusion crossing his wrinkled face, but he quickly followed his son inside, waving the curious villagers away.

The manor’s great hall had been prepared for a feast, a celebration to welcome the hero back. Tables were piled high with roasted meats, fresh bread, and ale, the fires burning warmly in the hearth. But Aldric paid no attention to the festivities. He moved slowly, deliberately, his armored boots echoing on the stone floor. His family gathered around him—his father, his younger brother Edwin, and his sister Lena, who had been just a girl when he left.

"Brother, welcome home!" Edwin said, smiling as he approached. "You must be exhausted. Let’s help you out of that armor."

Aldric’s head turned slightly, but still, he did not speak. Lena, standing by the fire, watched him closely, her eyes narrowing. There was something about him—something unnatural in the way he moved. His posture was stiff, his movements slow and deliberate, as though the armor weighed heavier than it should.

"Let him rest," Lord Wren said, though his voice trembled with doubt. "The war has taken much from him."

But as the hours wore on, the strangeness of Aldric’s return became impossible to ignore.

He refused to remove his armor.

The First Night

That evening, Aldric sat at the head of the table, silent as his family and the household feasted around him. He did not eat. He did not drink. His visor remained down, and every attempt to speak with him was met with silence. His father tried once more, his voice gentle but firm.

"Aldric, my boy. You’ve earned your rest. Take off your armor. Sit with us as a family again."

But Aldric simply turned his head slightly, as if acknowledging the words, but made no move to comply.

Edwin frowned. "This isn’t right," he whispered to Lena. "He hasn’t said a word since he returned."

"He’s been through a lot," Lena replied, though her voice wavered. She couldn’t stop staring at their brother. The man before her looked like Aldric, in the armor she had seen him wear before he left, but the person beneath it… something was different.

It was as though the armor itself had taken on a life of its own.

That night, as the manor quieted and the servants retired to their quarters, Lena found herself unable to sleep. Something gnawed at her insides, a deep sense of unease that wouldn’t leave her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong with her brother.

Slipping out of bed, she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and quietly made her way to Aldric’s chambers. The hallways were dark, the only light coming from the dim glow of the moon through the windows. As she approached his room, she hesitated. She hadn’t heard a sound from inside all night—no movement, no rustling, nothing.

Steeling herself, she knocked softly. "Aldric?" she called, her voice barely above a whisper. No response.

She opened the door.

The room was dark, the air heavy with the scent of cold metal. Aldric sat in the chair by the window, still fully armored, his helmet facing the open sky. His sword rested on the table beside him, its blade untouched by time or wear.

"Aldric," Lena said, stepping cautiously into the room. "Please, talk to me. What happened out there? Why won’t you—"

Suddenly, Aldric’s head turned sharply toward her, the motion so quick and unnatural that it stopped her breath. His visor remained down, but Lena felt his gaze piercing through the darkness, locking onto her.

"Take off the helmet," she said, her voice trembling. "Please. Let me see you."

For a long moment, Aldric was still. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he raised his hands to the sides of his helmet. The metal screeched softly as it moved, the sound grating in the silence. Lena’s heart pounded in her chest as he lifted the visor, revealing—

Nothing.

Beneath the helmet, there was no face. No skin. No eyes. No flesh. Only darkness, an empty void where her brother’s head should have been.

Lena gasped, stumbling back in horror. "No… no, this can’t—"

Before she could scream, Aldric rose from his chair, his movements stiff, his armor clanking ominously. He stepped toward her, the empty space beneath his helmet radiating a cold, unnatural energy. Lena backed away, her hand covering her mouth as tears welled in her eyes.

"This isn’t real," she whispered to herself. "This isn’t real…"

Aldric—or whatever was wearing his armor—continued to move toward her, each step heavy and deliberate. Lena felt a wave of dread wash over her as she realized the truth: her brother hadn’t returned. The thing inside the armor wasn’t Aldric.

It was something else.

With a sudden burst of courage, Lena bolted for the door, her heart hammering in her chest. She raced down the hallway, her mind spinning, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She had to warn her father and Edwin. They needed to know the truth.

But as she reached the main hall, she froze.

Lord Wren and Edwin stood at the doorway, staring at her with wide eyes. They had seen her running, had seen the panic on her face. "Lena, what is it? What’s wrong?" her father asked, stepping forward.

"It’s Aldric," she whispered, her voice shaking. "He’s… he’s gone. That thing isn’t him."

Edwin frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Before she could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. The clanking of metal, the unmistakable sound of armored boots against stone.

Aldric—or the thing wearing his armor—was coming.

"Get away from him!" Lena screamed, backing further into the hall. "That’s not Aldric!"

The figure appeared in the doorway, its empty visor staring ahead. Lord Wren gasped, stepping back in disbelief. Edwin, though confused, drew his sword.

"Aldric?" Lord Wren’s voice cracked. "What have they done to you?"

The armored figure took another step forward, the air around it growing colder, more oppressive. Lena could feel the wrongness radiating from it—the unnatural stillness, the sense that something far darker than they could imagine was moving beneath the armor, manipulating it like a puppet.

"It’s not him," Lena said, tears streaming down her face. "Aldric is gone."

For a long, agonizing moment, the thing stood in silence, staring at them with its hollow, empty gaze. And then, without warning, it turned and walked toward the door, disappearing into the night.

No one tried to stop it.

---

The villagers never saw Sir Aldric Wren again. His armor was found abandoned deep in the forest, lying in a clearing, empty and cold. The mystery of what had returned to the village that day remained unsolved.