A steady rhythm of applause echoes across the plaza, rising and swelling shared by many. People gather shoulder to shoulder, their excitement weaving.
At the center stands a breathtaking fountain—alive with motion, its waters glimmering like liquid crystal, enchanting every eye that falls upon it.
The entire village has come together in perfect harmony. Hands clap, Voices cheer.
Colorful banners flutter above, dancing joyfully with the wind as if celebrating alongside the crowd.
Children weave through the crowd, their laughter stitching itself into the pulse of the moment. As if this gathering wanted to greet someone
At the front of it all stood a white mansion, towering over the village like a marble monarch. It was the largest building in sight, its towering pillars guarding the entrance with timeless grace. Golden chandeliers flickered behind glass-paneled doors as if the house itself breathed luxury.
Above, a wrought-iron balcony swept across the second floor, waiting for the man to stand there and greet the village that everyone gathered to see.
The clapping grows louder—no, not just clapping. Welcoming. Honoring. As a man's footsteps approach the stage.
A white-bearded old man stepped into view, his body is quite chubby, adjusting his glasses as the soft light caught on his ceremonial robe—an heirloom embroidered with golden threads passed down from chief to chief for generations. With his kind eyes and snowy beard, one might've mistaken him for Santa Claus… if not for his shiny bald head, polished enough that you could almost see your own reflection in it.
His not just an old man, it's the village Chief, and once a hero that carved the village's name in history.
He walks with the calm dignity of a man who has carried generations on his shoulders. The crowd erupts in another wave of applause,
He places a steady hand against the iron— His gaze drifts across the faces before him: elders who built, children who will inherit, families bound by legacy.
A soft breeze carries his breath as he speaks the first words with a welcoming and cheerful voice.
"Today… we honor the 368th year of our village's legacy. I'm glad to see everybody in this village and have a gratitude thanks for those who take their time and prepared this celebration, it's an honor that I stand here before you as your village Chief —"
His voice echoed as his speech continue like a muffled voice echoed across the crowded venue.
And across the center of the crowd. there she was again—sitting, holding the head of her father, her throne-like seat matching the fiery red of her flaming hair, a color that never failed to steal every wandering gaze. As usual, her parents and uncle Fred was surrounded her in quiet splendor… everyone except Zeke...
It was already eleven twenty in the morning. The grand speech of the noble man continue— muffled yet clear. The celebration was nearing its end. Yet, before it could officially close, tradition would take its final stage: after the village chief's grand speech, the entire village would gather inside the mansion, where a grand feast had already been prepared as part of the village's long-held customs.
For the next moment, Emelia's tummy growled.
"Mom, I'm hungry…" she whispered.
Her mother beamed as she gently replied,
"Later, honey. There will be food soon. Just a little patience, okay, darling?"
Emelia groaned. "But I'm hungry…"
The grand speech continued, the village chief's voice echoing through the silence—steady, formal, and painfully long for a starving child. Emelia, on the other hand, was getting both bored and hungrier by the second.
"—a wonderful day to all of us here today: parents, grandparents, friends, and neighbors. Please allow me to welcome you all to the village's beloved mansion—"
Emelia rested her cheek against her palm, eyes half-lidded in boredom. But the moment the line she'd been waiting for arrived, she jolted upright, excitement flooding her face.
"I hope you may all enjoy today—"
Her eyes began to sparkle.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the feast begi—"
A thunderous sound shattered his words.
GONG! GONG! GONG! GONG!
A sudden alarm pounded through the village like a heartbeat gone mad. Each strike was faster, harsher—an unmistakable cry of danger. The festive air collapsed into dread as gasps and frantic whispers devoured the silence.
Aveloria's smile vanished.
In one swift motion, she lifted Emelia off her husband's shoulders and set her gently on the ground, her voice trembling. Panic rippled across the crowd; everyone knew what the watchtower's urgent rhythm meant.
"Umm… Fred, what is going on?" she whispered, clutching Emelia close.
Fred's jaw tightened. "I don't know, Ave… I didn't receive any new report about movement from the South."
On above the mansion, the village chief struggled to hold his composure, raising both hands in attempt to restore calmness of the people.
"Everyone, please remain calm! Stay together and prepare to evacu—"
His voice died when he saw it.
Far beyond the village walls, near the edge of the horizon—something moved. Thick, black clouds churned unnaturally, twisting and rolling forward as though alive. Though still a mile away, its motion was too deliberate. Too fast. Too unnatural.
The chief's face drained of color.
"My God…"
Then he snapped.
"Guards! Move! Evacuate the citizens immediately—children and elders must prioritize first! NOW!"
The gong continued to scream.
The order struck the villagers like another gong blast. Panic detonated. People clutched their families, calling names, pushing through the crowd in frantic desperation. Other used their own capabilities and mana control to double their movement.
Aveloria froze, arms tightening around Emelia same to his husband who's covering them both from the swarming crowd—
Then it came aveloria froze when a single realization sliced through her like a blade.
"Zeke."
Her heartbeat stumbled.
Zeke was not here. He was still at home— and the worst part is their home was above the hill. Far. Alone.
Her breath hitched. "Honey we need to go home fast…" Her voice cracked as she turned to her husband, eyes wide with horror.
"Z-Zeke… he's still at the house!"
Her husband's eyes widened a fraction—but before he could respond, another gong strike roared across the sky like thunder.
Each family hurried through their homes, gathering what little they could as guards shouted directions—guiding the elders, calming the frightened, and helping others search for their missing loved ones amid the growing chaos.
Fred knelt and gently took Emelia's trembling hand.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of Emelia while you two look for Zeke."
There was no time to argue. They knew splitting up was the only way—they could find Zeke faster, and keeping Emelia safe with Fred was their best option.
Emelia's mother leaned down, her eyes glistening as she held her daughter close.
"You stay with your uncle, okay? Your father and I will come back with Zeke."
Emelia nodded quickly, then pressed a small kiss to her mother's cheek.
"I'll wait… I promise."
"Honey, let's go! We don't have time!" her husband urged.
Aveloria gave one last look at her daughter before standing. Together, she and her husband dashed toward the main road—hearts pounding, weaving through the panicked crowd.
Behind them, the village roared with confusion and fear. Ahead, far beyond the rising smoke and dust, their home stood alone atop the hill—waiting, silent, and distant...
***
Back at home—Zeke was already rushing around in panic. He nearly slipped on the floor he'd just cleaned earlier while scrambling to gather food and supplies. In his desperation, he even snatched some money from his parents' locker.
He bolted to the backyard, freeing the animals—yes, even the chickens he hated the most. But that didn't matter now. What mattered was escaping and finding his family.
Before long, Zeke was running breathlessly down the hill, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder stuffed with supplies—and Emelia's favorite toys.
'Aww, how sweet.'
He stumbled over the grass, tumbling to his knees. He looked down, something soft brushed against his arm—a white, fluffy creature with long ears, squirming between his hands and chest.
"Is that… a rabbit?"
He almost slipped from the rock, but what gives more difficult that the Hill's angle rushing down mean increasing more speed plus the stuff he been carrying that made his legs to loss balance.
"Ahcck!.. oh no no no no no!"
Zeke gasped for breath as his body collapsed from losing balance. But instead of rolling down the hill, he managed to twist his weight, sliding through the grass using his backpack to slow his fall. His heart raced—panic almost made him squeal—as he tightly wrapped the little rabbit in his arms to protect it...
His voice echoed all the way down the hill. It didn't take long before he was about to hit the flat ground—and there he went. Instead of crashing hard, he slid smoothly across the slippery grass, gliding in what almost felt like slow motion.
"Ouch! My back…"
He groaned, lying still for a moment.
"Quick, faster would you..."
He groaned, almost losing his breath as he tried to stand, the heavy bag on his back weighing him down. Pain from the slide shot through his body, but he pushed on—forcing his legs to move. Step after step, he ran toward the village, the old stone bridge now coming into view.
Meanwhile at the back view chasing a terror the crimson storm was getting closer and closer like a Sand Storm...
***
Their footsteps pounded against the earth — sharp, desperate, echoing the fear in their chests.
Zeke's father ran ahead, his arms pumping wildly, while his mother trailed just a meter behind — the only thing slowing her was the long maxi skirt she clutched tightly in her fists, its fabric whipping against her legs with every frantic step.
The bridge was just ahead — stone and sturdy, their only path across the rushing stream below.
"I hope he's okay…" she gasped out, her voice trembling between breaths.
They reached the bridge, their boots striking the stone — clack, clack, clack — echoes stretching into the distance. Every sound reminded them how precious each second was. They had no time to stop, no time to think. Zeke was out there — alone.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Zeke was also racing toward the same bridge — clutching a fluffy rabbit tight against his chest.
That wild, chaotic slide down the muddy slope earlier had saved him minutes — lucky or not, it brought him closer to the village faster than he'd hoped.
"Quick… faster!" he muttered between ragged breaths, legs burning, heart hammering like a drum in his ears.
And then—he saw them.
Two familiar figures, silhouettes against the fading light, standing on the bridge like salvation itself. His lips curled into a trembling smile.
"M… Mom? Dad?" he shouted, his voice cracking from exhaustion and relief.
He pushed harder, faster, until his legs screamed and his lungs begged for air.
Across the bridge, both of his parents froze — their eyes widening, panic melting away in an instant.