Chapter 339

The village of Kaluo was quiet. Peaceful even, for a place perched at the very edge of the world. The sun had sunk behind jagged mountains, casting the land in deepening shades of purple and gold. Coconut palms bent slightly in the evening breeze.

It felt like a place that had been untouched by time, where nothing could ever go wrong. But there was a heavy thing that had come with the wind, something the people didn't understand, couldn't see.

It wasn't an evil. It wasn't a force that could be named or explained. It was only a thing, as old as humanity itself, but made strange by the way it seemed to never quite fit.

It started with a disappearance. At first, people weren't sure if it was real, if it was simply the result of a drunken night or some kind of mental breakdown. A woman named Malia had vanished, just like that.

One day, she was there, standing under the mango tree, her arms stretched toward the sky as she tried to reach the ripened fruit. The next day, she was gone. No one saw anything. No one could explain it. There were no marks on her house. No blood. No sign that she'd left in a hurry. She was just gone.

Then there were two more. Then three. Then five. It spread quickly. It wasn't like anything anyone had ever heard of. Not like a disease. Not like a predator. And so, they blamed the storms.

The strange storms that had been coming for months. They blamed the mountain. Perhaps it had cursed them. Or maybe it was something deep in the earth that had caused the rift between the living and the dead to stretch thin.

The truth of it was simpler and far more terrifying.

The first time Luke felt it, he wasn't sure what was happening. He had been walking to the store, his usual route along the rocky coastline, when his throat started to tighten. It was subtle at first—just a constriction.

He thought maybe he had inhaled a bit of salt air. The wind had been particularly fierce. But then it became harder to breathe, and that's when he felt it—like something was tugging at the base of his neck, trying to choke him, slowly.

Panic flared in his chest, but he didn't know what to do. He could see the waves crashing violently against the rocks below, the sea boiling like a thing alive. But the pain in his throat intensified, and his legs buckled beneath him.

When it stopped, he was on his knees. The world swirled, but there was no sign of anyone nearby. Just the endless ocean.

Luke staggered back home, and for days, he didn't speak to anyone about what had happened. He didn't want to seem weak or crazy. But then, one by one, the people in the village started to die. The elderly man who lived at the far end of the street. The boy who had worked at the market. Even the stranger who came to town only a week ago was found dead in the rice fields, his hands around his neck. No signs of a struggle, no cause that made any sense.

The village grew tense, filled with whispers about a curse. Some said the mountains had awoken. Others said it was something ancient, born of the ocean itself. A rumor took hold, spreading faster than the death.

A ribbon. An invisible ribbon that strangled people to death. That was all they could agree on. It didn't care who you were. It didn't matter if you were good or bad, old or young. If you were in its path, it would take you. It had killed millions, 23 million, in the past year alone.

And now, it had come to Kaluo.

Luke didn't know what to do. He couldn't ignore it anymore. He saw the fear in the faces of his neighbors, his friends. He saw the hollow eyes of those who'd lost someone to the ribbon. They were all afraid.

No one knew where it was. No one knew when it would come. It was everywhere and nowhere, slipping through cracks in the fabric of life like a hidden, ancient truth.

One evening, as dusk crept over the village, Luke decided he couldn't wait anymore. He couldn't wait for it to find him. He didn't know what he was hoping for—maybe for someone to tell him how to survive, how to fight it. But no one could. There was no fighting it. There was only running, but where would you run?

He sat on the porch, the wind blowing soft through the leaves. The sky was bruised, darkening rapidly. The sound of the waves grew louder, almost as if the ocean itself was trying to tell him something, warning him.

But it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. The terror that had been growing in his chest for weeks now was unbearable. The air felt thinner now. His breath came short and shallow.

Then, the tightening came again.

His throat squeezed like a vice, and panic set in immediately. This time, he wasn't alone. His hands shot to his neck, desperately trying to pull away the invisible thing that was choking him. He gasped for air, stumbling toward the door, his vision narrowing. He fell, hitting the ground, gasping, unable to scream. His mind spun in a daze. Was this it? Was this how it would end?

But then it stopped. The pressure disappeared just as suddenly as it had come. He collapsed to the floor, coughing and choking, his lungs searing with pain. He tried to breathe, but the air felt wrong. Too thick. Too still.

He knew. He knew it was here.

The ribbon had come for him.

It was just a matter of time before it finished what it had started.

Luke didn't know if he could run. He didn't know if he had the strength. He stumbled out of the house, his legs weak. He looked around at the empty street. The wind had stopped. The birds, which had been so noisy earlier, were silent now. The silence was crushing.

Then he heard it. A sound like the faintest snap, a crack in the air. His body tensed.

It was there. The ribbon.

He couldn't see it, but it was there.

His breath stopped. He felt his chest tighten. His fingers went to his throat again, but it was too late. The pressure, this time, was heavier. A weight that he couldn't lift. It wrapped around him like a serpent, squeezing the life out of him.

Luke couldn't fight it. He could only try to scream, but there was no sound. Only silence, broken by the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. His eyes bulged. His fingers clawed at his throat, but it was no use.

The last thing he saw before his vision faded was the village. Empty and quiet. No one around. Just the trees, the houses, and the wind. No one to help him. No one to see him die.

When it was over, when his body hit the earth with a soft thud, there was no one left to mourn. Not a single soul remained. Not in Kaluo, not anywhere. The ribbon had done its work.

And in the silence that followed, in the darkening sky and the empty village, there was only the ribbon. Still invisible. Still silent. Waiting for the next victim to come along.