The Tithe

There are stories that pass like smoke—soft, forgettable, unanchored.

The Tithe is not one of them.



This story lingers. It lives beneath the skin, not because it wishes to be remembered, but because it refuses to be forgotten. It comes from the places we do not speak of, from the hush in a room just after something terrible has happened, and just before anyone dares to say its name.



The village in these pages does not exist. The people here are not real.

And yet… you may recognize them.

You may hear the bell, faint and far away.

You may find yourself holding your breath.



This tale is not about heroes. It is not about salvation.

It is about what we are asked to give—and what is taken instead.

It is about the cost of seeing, and the burden of remembering.



If you’ve come looking for safety, turn back.

But if you’ve come because something in the silence called to you,

then keep going.



Some truths will only let themselves be known in the dark