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The Celestial Timekeeper

MelioDas678
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chs / week
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1.2k
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Synopsis
The fallen leaves tell a story, how a lonesome monster becomes the timekeeper. This is the recollection of such stories, memories and events taken by an unknown novelist.

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Chapter 1 - The encounter

The rain fell in torrents, an unrelenting deluge that hammered the dark forest with ferocious intensity. The once tranquil symphony of raindrops became a cacophony, each drop striking with a sense of urgency. The dense canopy above offered little shelter, the water streaming through in sheets, turning the dirt road below into a slick, treacherous path.

Amidst the shadows, a man moved hurriedly along the road, his silhouette barely visible through the curtain of rain. He was soaked to the bone, his clothes clinging to his body, his footsteps quick and unsteady on the muddy ground. He glanced over his shoulder frequently, his eyes wide with fear, searching the darkness for any sign of pursuit.

The forest around him was a blur, the trees looming like silent, watchful sentinels. Their branches swayed and groaned under the weight of the rain, adding to the sense of unease. The air was thick with the scent of wet earth and decaying leaves, mingling with the man's own ragged breath as he pushed himself forward.

Lightning flashed occasionally, illuminating the forest in stark, brief glimpses. In those fleeting moments, the man's face was revealed, contorted with terror, his eyes wild and desperate. The thunder that followed was a deep, resonant growl, as if the sky itself was chasing him, urging him to run faster.

His pace was almost a run, his steps faltering and slipping on the muddy road. He could feel the presence of something behind him, an unseen menace that drove him onward. Each crack of a branch, each rustle in the underbrush, seemed amplified in the oppressive darkness, feeding his fear.

He knew he had to keep moving. Stopping meant being caught, and being caught meant facing whatever horror lay behind him. His mind raced, unable to focus on anything but the need to escape, the primal urge to survive overpowering all else. The road stretched out before him, winding through the forest like a serpentine lifeline, promising safety if he could only reach its end.

The rain showed no signs of abating, each drop like a tiny hammer driving him further into the depths of the forest. The man's energy waned, his legs heavy, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Yet he pushed on, driven by sheer willpower and the fear of the unknown terror at his back.

In the distance, barely perceptible through the deluge, a faint glow began to appear. It was weak and flickering, but it was a beacon of hope in the relentless storm. Summoning the last of his strength, the man fixed his eyes on that distant light and forced himself to move faster, his footsteps splashing through the puddles that dotted the road.

The man stumbled up the steps of the small, weathered hut, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The faint glow from within offered a fleeting sense of relief, a promise of refuge from the relentless storm. He pushed open the door with trembling hands, the old wood creaking in protest.

Inside, the hut was dimly lit by a flickering oil lamp, its light casting long, eerie shadows across the room. The man called out for his friends, his voice hoarse and desperate, but there was no reply. The silence was deafening, broken only by the drumming of the rain on the roof and the occasional rumble of thunder.

He moved further inside, his eyes darting around, searching for any sign of his companions. The room was in disarray. Furniture was overturned, and the remnants of what must have been a fierce struggle were evident. Shattered glass, splintered wood, and scattered belongings littered the floor, telling a silent story of violence and chaos.

The man's heart pounded as he tried to piece together what had happened. He knelt down, picking up a torn piece of cloth that he recognized as belonging to one of his friends. Bloodstains marred the fabric, a chilling indication of injury. His mind raced with questions, fear and anxiety twisting his thoughts into knots.

He continued his search, moving through the small hut with growing urgency. In the corner, he found a table that had been shoved against the wall, its contents spilled across the floor. Maps, supplies, and personal items lay scattered, some of them stained with blood. His eyes fixed on a piece of paper that seemed out of place among the chaos. He picked it up, noting the hastily scribbled words, but the message was incomplete, cut off abruptly, as if the writer had been interrupted.

Desperation gnawed at him as he looked around, trying to find any clue as to where his friends might have gone or what had attacked them. The signs of the struggle were everywhere, but there was no indication of who or what had caused it. The storm outside seemed to mock his helplessness, its fury undiminished, the rain lashing against the windows.

A noise outside made him freeze. He strained to listen, every muscle tensed. It could be his friends returning, or it could be something far more sinister. The wind howled through the trees, and for a moment, he thought he heard voices carried on the gusts. He moved to the window, peering out into the darkness, but the rain made it impossible to see more than a few feet then he heard the door creak open behind him. He spun around, his heart pounding, ready to confront whoever—or whatever—had entered the hut.

Standing in the doorway was a figure unlike any he had ever seen. The newcomer was tall and imposing, with flowing white hair that framed a pale, angular face. His eyes were a striking, almost unnatural blue, gleaming with an unsettling intensity. The most peculiar and unnerving aspect, however, were the scales that adorned both sides of his head, shimmering faintly in the dim light.

The man in the black robe stepped further into the room, surveying the chaotic scene with a calm, almost detached expression. "Hmm, it seems I was late," he said, his voice smooth and resonant, carrying an air of authority and menace.

The rain continued to hammer against the roof, the sound now a distant backdrop to the tension filling the room. The man took a step back, his muscles tensed, every instinct telling him to be on guard. "Who are you?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fear gnawing at his insides. "What do you want?"

The robed figure's lips curved into a slight, enigmatic smile. "My name is not important. What matters is that I was seeking the ones who were here before you. It seems, however, that I have arrived too late to fulfill my purpose."

His gaze swept over the room again, pausing on the bloodstained cloth in the man's hand. "I see there was a struggle. Tell me, what do you know of what transpired here?"

The man hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. The stranger's presence was disconcerting, and there was something otherworldly about him that set every nerve on edge. "I don't know," he replied cautiously. "I just got here myself. My friends were supposed to be here, but I found the place like this."

The blue-eyed stranger regarded him thoughtfully, as if weighing his words. "I see. Then it appears we both seek answers." He stepped closer, his movements smooth and deliberate. "Your friends are in grave danger. The ones who took them are not to be trifled with. If you wish to see them again, you will need my help."

The man narrowed his eyes, suspicion battling with desperation. "Why should I trust you? You could be one of them for all I know."

The robed figure inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the point. "You have no reason to trust me, but consider this: alone, you stand little chance against the forces at play. Together, we might succeed. My goals align with yours, at least for now."

A flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a crack of thunder. The man felt the weight of the stranger's words, the grim reality of his situation sinking in. He had no idea what he was up against or how to find his friends, but this stranger seemed to have some answers.

"Fine," he said, decision made. "For now, we work together. But if you try anything—"

"You have my word," the robed man interrupted, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Now, let us waste no more time. We must follow the trail before it goes cold."

With that, the two men stepped back into the storm, the relentless rain washing away the remnants of the battle as they embarked on a perilous quest to find the missing friends and uncover the truth behind the night's sinister events.