Chapter 25: Vanished in the Night
The night was unnaturally quiet. Even the faint rustle of wind through the trees seemed to have disappeared, leaving the village wrapped in an eerie stillness. Overhead, the sky was a swirling canvas of deep purples and sickly greens, as though the heavens themselves were rotting.
Damien sat by his window, staring at the unsettling colors. The village had grown quieter with each passing day, and the silence pressed down on him like a heavy weight. He glanced around his dimly lit room, his mind wandering as it often did.
A low, distant sound broke through the quiet. It was a deep, resonant hum, almost like the tolling of a massive bell. Damien stood, moving to the window to peer out into the night. The sound seemed to come from the direction of the hills far beyond the village, their dark silhouettes barely visible against the strange sky.
---
As the hours passed, the hum continued, growing louder and more insistent. By dawn, it had stopped, leaving behind a profound stillness. When Damien finally stepped outside, he noticed the village was unusually empty.
Doors hung open, swinging slightly in the breeze. Tools lay abandoned in the dirt, mid-task. A pot of stew on a hearth nearby still simmered, unattended.
Damien wandered through the streets, his footsteps the only sound breaking the silence. He reached the market square, where a small group of villagers had gathered, their faces pale and stricken.
"What happened?" Damien asked, his voice calm despite the tension in the air.
"They're gone," a woman whispered, clutching a child to her side. "All of them. Gone without a trace."
"How many?" Damien asked.
"Nearly twenty," a man replied, his voice trembling. "Whole families. Their homes are empty. It's like they vanished into thin air."
---
The council called an emergency meeting, their usual air of authority replaced by visible fear.
"We need to act," one of the council members said, his voice sharp with urgency. "This isn't random anymore. It's escalating."
"What can we do?" another countered, his tone bitter. "We don't know what's causing this, let alone how to stop it."
The room erupted into arguments, voices overlapping in a chaotic cacophony.
Damien sat at the back of the room, observing the turmoil with his usual detachment. The villagers' desperation felt distant to him, like a play unfolding for his amusement.
---
As the day wore on, more details about the disappearances emerged. A man reported finding a trail of footprints leading toward the hills, but they stopped abruptly, as though the person had simply ceased to exist.
Another woman spoke of hearing faint voices in the night, calling her name in a language she didn't understand.
"They weren't human," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Whatever they were... they weren't from here."
---
Damien found himself drawn to one of the abandoned homes. He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the interior. The table was set for breakfast, plates of food left untouched. A chair lay tipped over on its side, as though someone had left in a hurry.
He moved to the bedroom, where a child's toy sat on the floor. Picking it up, he turned it over in his hands, his thoughts drifting.
He couldn't remember the family who had lived here. He couldn't picture their faces or recall their names.
It was as though they had been erased from existence.
---
That evening, as the villagers lit lanterns and huddled together for safety, Damien wandered back to the edge of the void. The air was colder than usual, carrying with it a faint metallic scent.
The void below seemed more restless than ever, its surface rippling with unseen movements.
He thought about the distant hum that had echoed through the night. He thought about the footprints that led to nowhere, the voices that weren't human, the lives that had been erased.
The world was unraveling, piece by piece, and Damien couldn't bring himself to care.
As he stared into the endless darkness, he wondered if the void would eventually take him too.
And if it did, would anyone even remember he had been there?