Morning arrived with an eerie stillness. No birdsong, no rustling of leaves—only the hollow silence of a world that had been left behind. Harvey and Julia stood at the edge of the forest, staring at what remained of their home.
Or rather, what didn't remain.
The village was… wrong. The buildings stood where they always had, the dirt roads stretched ahead as they should, but there was no sign of life. No smoke rising from chimneys. No footprints in the dust. No sounds of the morning bustle. It was as if the village had been abandoned for years.
Harvey took a cautious step forward. His heart pounded as he reached the first house—the baker's home. He pushed open the door.
Inside, everything was in place. The table was set with plates, as if breakfast had been prepared but never eaten. The firepit held only cold ashes. A loaf of bread sat on the counter, untouched but hardened with age far beyond just one night.
Julia's voice was barely above a whisper. "What happened here?"
Harvey didn't answer. He stepped back into the street, his eyes darting between the houses. The same scene repeated in every home. Meals left uneaten. Beds undisturbed. Everything frozen in time, yet somehow aged, like the village had been left to decay for years overnight.
Then, he saw it.
A mark, burned into the wooden door of the mayor's house. A swirling symbol, dark and jagged, pulsing with a faint energy.
"Julia."
She followed his gaze and stiffened. "That wasn't there before."
Harvey reached out, but the moment his fingers brushed the surface, a cold shock ran through his body. He gasped and staggered back, his mind filled with a flash of something—a presence, ancient and watching.
Then it was gone.
Julia caught his arm. "What was that?!"
Harvey shook his head, the sensation still clinging to him. "I don't know. But whatever it is… it's not done with us."