Chapter 3

The bells continued their relentless toll, reverberating through the village like a death sentence. The night had transformed into a nightmare. The once-abandoned streets of Midvale were now crawling with the twisted, nightmarish figures of the villagers—shambling, broken shells of the people they had once been.

Aiden's pulse raced as he and his group backed away from the advancing horde, their weapons drawn, but there was no time to fight—not when these things outnumbered them so drastically.

"We need to get out of here!" Lyra cried, her voice cracking with panic. The healer's usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by pure terror.

"We can't outrun them," Kara muttered, her eyes darting between the twisted figures closing in from all sides. Her hands, usually steady, now trembled as she held her dagger tightly. "They're everywhere."

Aiden's mind raced, his instincts kicking into overdrive. There had to be a way out, but the village was a maze of narrow streets and looming shadows. "Theron, Kara and Kieran—stay close. We'll have to break through."

The hulking warrior gave a sharp nod, gripping his sword with both hands. "I'll clear a path."

Without hesitation, Theron lunged forward, swinging his sword in wide, brutal arcs. His blade connected with the nearest creature, severing its arm with a sickening thud. But the figure didn't react as a living being would. It didn't scream or fall; it simply kept moving, its vacant eyes fixed ahead, as though it couldn't feel pain.

Kara and Kieran followed Theron's lead, her quick reflexes allowing her to dart between the creatures, striking with precision. But no matter how many they cut down, more emerged from the shadows.

"We're wasting time!" Aiden growled, frustration mounting. "This isn't working. We need to find another way!"

"Someone help please!" Kieran exclaimed.

As if in response to his words, a loud creak echoed from behind them—a door slowly opening. Aiden spun around, sword at the ready, only to see a frail, hunched figure standing in the doorway of a small house.

"Inside!" the old woman hissed, her eyes wide with urgency. "Hurry, before they see you!"

Without thinking, Aiden signaled for his group to follow, and they rushed inside, slamming the door behind them. The noise outside grew distant, muffled by the thick wooden walls, though the occasional scream or moan pierced through the silence.

Breathing heavily, Aiden turned to the woman who had saved them. She was old, with deep lines etched into her face, her hair a tangled mass of white. Her clothes were tattered, but her eyes gleamed with an unsettling sharpness.

"Who are you?" he asked, trying to steady his breath. "And what in the gods' names is happening in this village?"

The old woman stared at them for a long moment before finally speaking. "You should not have come here," she said, her voice raspy, as if she hadn't spoken in years. "Midvale is cursed. The bells… they are a warning."

"If I can turn back the time, I would not choose to go" Kieran said.

"Stop it, we're already here. There's no more we can do" Kara reminded.

"We figured that much," Theron muttered, wiping blood from his sword. "What we need to know is what's causing this."

The woman's eyes flickered with something—fear, maybe even regret—but she didn't answer immediately. Instead, she hobbled over to a small table and sat down, motioning for the group to do the same.

"I am Isolde," she began, her voice low and somber. "I was once the village herbalist… before all of this happened."

Aiden exchanged glances with Lyra, who was already leaning in, her healer's instincts curious about the old woman. "How long has this been going on?" Aiden asked.

Isolde's gaze grew distant. "It started three years ago… the night the bells changed. We had always used the church bells to signal the end of the day, but one evening, they rang on their own. No one was in the bell tower. The priest swore he hadn't touched the ropes. From that moment, everything changed."

The old woman's hands trembled as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "People started disappearing. At first, it was only a few… then entire families. And those who remained began to… change. The bells rang every night after that, and with each toll, more of us lost our humanity."

Aiden leaned forward, trying to make sense of her words. "What's causing it? Is it some kind of magic? A curse?"

"What kind of magic would do such thing?" Kieran interfere, but he was just ignored by Aiden, so he chose not to utter a word anymore and just stay still and listen to what Isolde's would say.

Isolde shook her head, her expression haunted. "No one knows for sure. Some say it's the work of spirits—angry, vengeful spirits that were disturbed. Others believe the village was built on cursed ground. But the truth… the truth is worse."

Lyra's eyes widened. "Worse?"

Isolde nodded grimly. "There is something beneath this village. Something ancient and evil. The bells are its voice, calling out to claim more souls. The priest tried to stop it. He sealed the entrance to the catacombs beneath the church, hoping that would silence the bells. But it only made things worse. Now, the spirits that once rested below are rising."

A cold chill swept through the room as Isolde spoke, and Aiden could feel the weight of her words settling heavily on his chest.

"The catacombs…" Kara whispered, her brow furrowed in thought. "That's where we need to go, isn't it?"

Isolde's face darkened. "No one who enters the catacombs ever returns. Not the priest, not the villagers who went to stop the bells. They all vanish."

Theron crossed his arms, his face set with determination. "If that's where the source of this is, then we don't have a choice. We need to get down there."

Isolde's hands gripped the edge of the table tightly. "You'll be walking into the heart of the curse. The bells will not let you leave."

Aiden stood, his resolve hardening. "If we don't stop this, no one will. The village is already lost, but we might be able to save others."

The old woman looked up at him, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Then may the gods have mercy on your souls."

After gathering their gear and steeling their nerves, the group followed Isolde's directions to the church at the center of the village. The towering structure loomed over them, its stone walls cracked and worn, as though it had aged a hundred years in the span of a few.

The bells rang again as they approached, the sound growing louder, more oppressive. Every toll felt like it was drilling into their minds, stirring fear and dread deep within them.

Lyra clutched her staff tightly, her knuckles white. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"You're not the only one," Aiden muttered, casting a wary glance at the darkened windows of the nearby buildings. The villagers—those twisted things—were still out there, hiding in the shadows.

The church doors groaned as they pushed them open, revealing the dim, musty interior. Dust hung in the air, and the once-grand altar was now covered in cobwebs. But the most striking feature was the trapdoor at the back of the room, half-hidden beneath a torn rug.

"That's it," Kara said quietly, her voice tense. "The entrance to the catacombs."

Theron stepped forward, ready to pull the trapdoor open, but Aiden stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Once we go down there, there's no turning back."

The warrior nodded, his face grim. "I know."

Aiden's eyes scanned the faces of his companions, seeing the fear and determination in their expressions. They had come too far to turn back now.

With a deep breath, Aiden pulled the trapdoor open, revealing a set of stone stairs descending into the darkness below.

The air that rose from the catacombs was thick and heavy, filled with the scent of decay and something far worse—something ancient, waiting.

And as they descended into the depths, the bells rang one final time.